


Personal Assistance

by vintage1983



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angry Lucius, Because who wouldn't, Caning, Cringe worthy moment, Dom/sub, Dominant Lucius, Eventual BDSM, F/M, Humiliation, Jealous Lucius, Light Angst, Light Bondage, Mainly PWP, Masturbation, Meta, Minor ref to groping, Nothing graphic or severe, Ok there may be plot, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Spanking, UST, Voyeurism, horny lucius, thin plot, you all know where this is going
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-05-24 15:38:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14957376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintage1983/pseuds/vintage1983
Summary: Lucius Malfoy requires a new personal assistant and you happen to be the lucky lady to get the job.Smut ensues...Slow burn, full on smut kicks in at chapter 8!





	1. The Interview

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings! This is my first attempt at writing Lucius Malfoy, those who know me understand how I got here and why it was inevitable.  
> I'll save the traditional apology for when it is truly required (Chapter 2 probably).  
> Thanks to #teambasement the best kind of cheerleaders. This one belongs to Amy, cos well it's Malfoy!
> 
> As this is my first go at this, I apologise for any schoolgirl HP errors and all comments and feedback, kind or constructive are deeply appreciated, as always.  
> Unbeta'd errors are my own.  
> I own nothing except a filthy mind.  
> Thanks for reading, I hope to update soon and guarantee there will be smut, lots and lots of smut.

You stopped just outside the heavy, ornate office door, running your fingertips over the Malfoy crest embellished into the ancient wood that felt a thousand years old. Clenching your fist, it hovered millimetres from the door, as you built yourself up to knock and announce your presence.

“Enter,” boomed the voice from behind, startling you. He couldn’t possibly have heard you, in fact you had gone out of your way to charm your heels beforehand so they hadn’t clacked against the cold marble floor then approached as stealthily as you could. Deep down, you knew long before you arrived for your interview, you would need at least a moment to compose yourself.

Clearing your throat, you took a moment to steel yourself, smooth down your skirt and try to pat down any stray or out of place hair. It was still a mystery to you how you had managed to secure an interview at all. Putting it down to a triumph of spirited enthusiasm over qualifications and experience and perhaps a foot in the door by virtue of having the right sort of lineage, you puffed out your chest and got ready to make the best impression you could.

Hoping you at least looked the part, you considered your outfit. Taking advice from anyone and everyone, you had selected a high-waisted black pencil skirt that sat just below the knee and a plain white shirt, tucked in and done up enough to avoid any flesh on display that may mark you as common. The desired look was traditional, but not too traditional. The horror story of a young woman who had turned up for an interview in full robes only to be sent away teary-eyed as ‘a dishevelled bat flapping around the office’ was identified as reason enough not to employ her had served as a warning to you, though that was little consolation to that poor girl. Conservative, but not too conservative was another less than helpful suggestion and you could only hope the length of your skirt was enough to make you appear demure and sophisticated enough, while the split to the back avoided plain and dowdy. Deciding bare legs were too common, you had opted for stockings. Your prospective employer would be oblivious, but at least they gave you a scrap of confidence and when paired with large stiletto heels, they forced you to stand up a little straighter. The words of one of your friendly advisors not to slouch still rung in your ears.

The awful thought your choice of colour and the immaculate bun piled up on top of your head might make you look like a muggle school girl flashed through your mind. It was too late now; the slick of dark red lipstick and flick of black eyeliner may at least save you from that.

Your hand shook a little as you turned the handle and entered. Unable to force yourself to make eye contact you quickly absorbed the details of the room. Luxurious mahogany shelves filled with heavy, dusty accounting books lined the walls, along with the paintings of five generations of Malfoy patriarchs glowering down at you. A grand fireplace of pale marble adorned the chimney breast and a vast leather-topped desk dominated the centre of the room. It was the occupant of the grandiose wing-backed chair behind it that was the most intimidating feature of the room. As a child, you thought your own father’s office was lavish, it looked positively impoverished when compared to the opulent surroundings you found yourself in. Although you could feel his eyes boring in to you, you hardly dared to look up.

Lucius Malfoy flicked through papers in front of him that you recognised as your own application. There was an uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by the ticking of an ostentatious, ormolu carriage clock on the fireplace. You remained silent. Even if you had wanted to say something, you doubted you could force any words out at the moment.

You had seen him in person at one or two events, always from a distance. If he had ever acknowledged your existence it had been brief and in passing. Fleeting memories of his immaculate hair, not one out of place and his stern demeanour were borne out by the man in front of you. He was dressed in black, just as you expected, his cane propped at the side of his desk, close at hand.

“Take a seat,” he commanded, his voice monotone and his face expressionless as he waved his hand and a chair slid back to bid you sit on the opposite side of the desk. Your thumping heartbeat that had a steady rhythm with the clock was now beating faster and reverberating in your ears. Each time he paused from his reading for a second, you considered speaking and each time you thought better of it. The eyes of the paintings continued to silently appraise you.

Finally, he raised his head slowly and spoke.

“From a pureblood family of decent standing, I see.”

“Thank you, Sir,” hoarsely escaped from your lips.

Lucius starred at you blankly.

“Educated at Beauxbatons. Was there a reason your parents opted not to send you to Hogwarts?”

Unsure if it was an accusation or a question, you gulped slightly and ran your tongue unconsciously across your lips, your mouth drying at the prospect of an unpleasant and unsuccessful interview. Deciding honesty was the best the policy, you did your best to find your voice and answer as truthfully as possible.

“Although perhaps not as highly regarded as Hogwarts in some respects, my father, who was a Slytherin himself,” it felt like name dropping and grovelling, but needs must, you thought to yourself. “Regarded Beauxbaton’s as an exceptional finishing school for a young witch hoping to mix well in society.”

His brow furrowed. This wasn’t going well. You tried again.

“He also felt it advantageous for a daughter to avoid the influence of…” you trailed off as his eyes narrowed.

“Of?” he snapped. Squirming in your chair, you grasped for words.

“Of young wizards, Sir.”

His expression softened as much as you imagined it ever would. He looked pensive for a moment.

“I think it an understandable, if not an admirable ambition for a father to hope his daughter matures whilst remaining… _virtuous_.”

It had never occurred to you before, but the undoubtedly terrifying Lucius Malfoy was also inescapably attractive. Even as you shuffled nervously, your fingers digging in to the underside of your seat, you found yourself watching the way the word _virtuous_ hung on his cruel, but undeniably kissable lips. You were transfixed as they curled slowly into a wicked smile, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“I may have done the same thing, had I not produced a son.”

The image of Lucius Malfoy engaged in any activity that may result in ‘producing’ heirs may have filled you with dread an hour ago. Now you found yourself nipping your tongue between your teeth to prevent yourself from smirking at the image of him naked in wild abandon. This was neither the time nor the place to be developing a crush on a powerful wizard who may or may not be considering employing you.

Rumour had it he was a gifted legilimens, judging by the look on his face and the ideas in your head, that may well have been true. Conscious of the inappropriateness of your own thoughts, you lifted your gaze, only to be met with piercing and disarming blue eyes boring deeply into your soul from the other side of the desk, forcing a sharp intake of breath.

“I wonder,” he said wickedly, “do I make you nervous?”

“A little, Sir, I’d be lying if I said otherwise.”

Lucius Malfoy was very much aware he made you nervous, deceit was a pointless and counter-productive exercise. Besides, he seemed to rather enjoy your response and gave an amused grunt.

“Good,” he said sharply. “What do you imagine qualifies you to act as my personal assistant?”

This, you had at least prepared for.

“I like to think myself capable of thinking for myself, as well as following instructions with care and precision. My education has afforded me a good knowledge of social occasion and propriety. I am hard-working and incredibly loyal. I’m a fast-learner and consider myself organised and…”

Lucius looked bored. It broke your train of thought.

“But inefficient,” Lucius said curtly.

You looked puzzled.

“Your application was hand delivered. It would have been far less time consuming to send it by owl. Are you not, inefficient?”

“I believe I am not at all inefficient.”

Your indignant response made his eyebrow shoot up.

“As a personal assistant, the emphasis is on the personal touch. An owl is an impersonal and everyday response. Going above and beyond the ordinary is the job of a good assistant, whether it to be to win over a difficult client, or to meet the needs of their employer.”

“And you believe you can, meet my _needs?”_

“Yes. I believe I can. I would not have wasted your valuable time with my application if I didn’t.”

Your nerves had dissipated a little. Though you had little experience, you were not accustomed to being taken for an idiot, even by a man as powerful and handsome as Lucius Malfoy. _Handsome._ You cursed yourself for even thinking that.

“Excellent. Then I shall eagerly await your best efforts. I will arrange your contract immediately and expect you to start on Monday. Be prepared, young lady. I expect you to arrive early and be prepared to work late. Your parentage, though desirable, does not grant you a free pass. I expect you to work hard.”

It took a moment to absorb the fact he had just offered you the job. When it sunk in, you were overtaken by a surge of surprise and excitement.

“Oh, I don’t know what to say, thank you so much. I didn’t really expect to be successful, I mean I hoped, but…I promise I am a fast learner and I will work extremely hard, really, I will. Thank you so much for this opportunity Mr. Malfoy.”

His face was stony again.

“You will quickly find there is little requirement for that sort of… _exuberance_ in this office. As an aside, I rather dislike Mr. Malfoy. It sounds frightfully… _muggle_. Sir, will suffice.”

“Yes, Sir I understand and…”

He silenced you with a look.

“Well, I see you are learning quickly. That will be all for today. You can see yourself out.” He gestured towards the door that opened itself on command.

“Thank you,” you said, scurrying towards the door, dying to get out of the room and do something, though you were unsure if that was punching the air, skipping down the hallway or just breathing out in relief.

As you reached the impending safety of the door, his voice called you to pause.

“One more thing, Miss. I trust you can be…discreet.”

“Of course, Sir, discretion is my middle name.”

He snorted.

“An unfortunate choice on the part of your parents.”

Silently kicking yourself for saying something so trite and cliched you were glad he couldn’t see you squeeze your eyes tightly shut and bite your lip, mortified at your own ridiculous choice of words. Lucius Malfoy was the type of man to rescind an offer on a whim, using a muggle expression at his door was possibly unforgiveable. You dared yourself to glance back over your shoulder. His attention had returned to the pile of papers on his desk. Thinking it better to say nothing else you hurried out into the corridor.

This was the most terrifying, surreal and unconventional job interview you could possibly have imagined. At least it was over now. The worrying part was coming on Monday morning. It dawned on you that you had better get used to being in the presence of Lucius Malfoy, it was now going to be your day job.

 

 

 

 


	2. An Eventful Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the reads, kudos and comments. Always appreciated and welcome. Never fear, smut is here!  
> 100% relatable content in this chapter!  
> Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Comments give me life, and my only reward for writing, please feed the author!

An unimpressed owl arrived carrying your contract and you couldn’t help but tear into it like an over-eager school girl. You were sure to remind yourself that sort of giddiness would be unwelcome in the prestigious offices of Lucius Malfoy and you tried in vain to wipe the grin from your face. Perhaps that needed work. ‘Ridiculous girl’ echoed in your head in his most haughty tone. The more you read, the faster the fear of failure crept up from the soles of your feet and threated to consume you. The tasks and requirements seemed endless and prescriptive. Guidance for suitable dress for various occasions caught your eye. It appeared you would be expected to attend functions outside of the office. Though these events weren’t totally outside of your experience and you had fleetingly glimpsed Lucius Malfoy at a number of social events your father had been invited to attend, you had never imagined being in his company. Instructions on how to address certain clients, a list of people and events never to be mentioned, rules on what could be done with the aid of magic and duties expected to be done without all seemed confusing and limitless. The exacting detail stretched as far as how he would take his tea in the morning; one of those tasks that should be carried out without the aid of any charm or spell. Excitement, terror and regret blended together in a heady mix. You would start tomorrow, and you knew sleep was nothing more than a futile pursuit.

 

____________________

 

Arriving early and without access to the offices, you seated yourself on a heavy, wooden chair in the corridor and waited. You had checked your hair and make-up what felt like a hundred times, changed outfits several times before settling on a smart, but plain grey dress and a black cloak to stave off the cold outside. Nothing excessively fancy, non-descript without appearing overly muggle. The tale of the ‘bat’ still haunted you.

Finally, purposeful footsteps alerted you to his presence. Lucius Malfoy did not walk anywhere, he strode. Pausing in front of you, he eyed you, barely turning his head.

“You are early. I find your compliant eagerness…pleasing.”

Though his words were a compliment, his expression was unmoved, not a hint of a smile, more a scowl. At least you had made a decent first impression. Biding the doors to open with a wave of his hand you scrambled to collect your handbag and followed him inside. Another wave lit the fire in the grate and turned on the lamps to illuminate the room on a particularly dark and dull morning.

“I assume you have read your contract thoroughly,” he said coldly.

“Yes, Sir, of course, several times in fact.”

“Why? Do you find it difficult to absorb information on the first time of asking?”

You swallowed, this was going to be harder than you had anticipated.

“No…no, not at all. I simply wanted to be certain of every detail. It wouldn’t do to be making errors. Your time is too valuable to spend correcting me.”

Certain you had noticed a small smirk fight at the corner of his mouth, you hoped you had said something right for a change.

“Then if you are familiar with your contract, you will be well-aware of your first duty.” Lucius gestured to the tea things set out on a small side table. “There, young lady, is your first test.”

It made you nervous. Conscious your hand was shaking a little as you stirred the spoon, you tried to steady it and wished for magic to hide your terror. Once prepared you set it down gently in front of him, now seated at his desk studying the front page of the newspaper. Standing awkwardly, mouth open, you waited an eternity for him to take a sip. Eventually he did.

“Are you intending to stand there gawping at me as I take tea every morning?” he said.

“No…no I wondered if it was to your liking,” you stuttered, seemingly unable to get anything right.

“It is…satisfactory,” he replied taking another small sip. “Now close your mouth and attend to your work.” Lucius ushered you away with a flick of his wrist.

______________

 

Three weeks had passed since your first morning in the employ of Lucius Malfoy. It was fair to say you had lasted longer than most. The ability to remain quiet and keep out of his way seemed a bonus. You knew better than to question him. At best, you imagined he could find nothing specific to be displeased about.

You worked in a smaller adjoining office, much plainer and simpler than the lavish surroundings he inhabited next door, but pleasant none-the-less. Your desk and chair were far lighter, narrower objects. You had a small stove for the winter months and a plain mahogany coat stand. The side table for tea making had been moved into your office, since the rattling of cups was ‘a most irritating distraction.’ You didn’t mind, on days he was in a particularly foul mood the less you saw of him the better.   An immaculate to do list was left on the desk each morning. This was far more within your comfort zone. You answered owls, except those specifically marked not to be read by anyone but Lucius himself, managed his diary, dealt with figures and paid bills. It was rare you had cause to see or speak to him and it made it considerably easier. Occasionally he would beckon you to collect something from his desk, demand more tea or inform you he was leaving the offices. There was no doubt he still terrified you, but you had at least learnt to keep a steady hand as you carried his tea cup.

Today had been unusual. He never moved from his desk, other than to come and go. If you were required for something he would always bark at you to come to him, yet today there he was in the space you had almost dared to claim as your own.

You were standing with your back to the door, sorting papers on the desk. You didn’t hear him approach. The first you knew of his presence was his voice in your ear.

“I wonder,” he said softly. Despite the hushed tone, it startled you enough to make you jump and he gripped your forearm to still you. “If you aren’t too busy, if you could attend to these rather urgent matters.”

Your breath quickened. Lucius Malfoy was standing behind you, so close you could feel the surprising warmth of him radiating against your back, so close you could feel his breath against your neck, his seemingly innocuous words pouring into your ear like warm honey. Your mouth was almost too dry to speak. Still startled, you couldn’t find an answer, though a simple yes would have sufficed.

“Well, girl? Has the cat got your tongue?”

It felt as though your heart was thumping so loud it must be audible.

“Oh course. I…I’ll see to it…right away,” you managed finally.

He leant forward, brushing close against you and reaching in front of you to place the heavy brown folder onto your desk. Certain he had lingered more than was necessary, you let out a small gasp.

“Thank you,” he whispered, placing your limp and pliable hand on top of the file. “My dear,” he added. You were holding your breath now.

With that he disappeared as quickly and silently as he had arrived, leaving you clinging on to the edge of the desk for dear life as you feared your knees would buckle beneath you. Puffing out a long breath, you were momentarily unable to move, legs of jelly and rooted to the spot, frozen in shock and what had just taken place. In the moment you were quite uncertain if it had happened at all. Perhaps you had imagined it. Lucius Malfoy had never set foot in your office before, he barely spoke to you, addressed you as ‘girl’ most of the time and looked at you with haughty disdain.

Pulling yourself together, you managed to sink into your chair and forced yourself to address the work he had left in front of you. An unexpected and dull ache throbbed between your thighs and you pressed them together tightly, urgently trying to repress it. The clock on the wall caught your eye; it was going to be a long day.

 

__________________

 

Your suspicions had been right. The hands had crawled round through the minutes and hours at a torturous pace. Thankfully you had seen and heard no more from your employer. Longing for home time had been one thing, making your way through his office and bidding him good evening was another. Aware that he was still there, you packed your things into your handbag slowly and put on your cloak with extra care. Making your way to the door with the speed and enthusiasm of a wizard condemned to a life in Azkaban, you painstakingly turned the handle and kept your head down and hoped to scurry through unnoticed. He often didn’t raise his head or acknowledge you at the end of the day beyond a cursory ‘good evening’.

“I see you are finished on time.”

His voice stopped you in your tracks, you didn’t look up.

“Yes, Sir, everything is done as you asked.”

“How wonderful,” he crowed. “There may be occasions where I may require you to work later, outside of your usual hours. Would that present a problem to you?”

“Not at all. I’m certain it was mentioned in my contract.”

“Indeed, it was. And I shan’t have any angry young wizards beating at my door demanding I release you to enjoy your evening?”

“No,” you laughed awkwardly, “most certainly not.”

“Excellent. Then I shall see you tomorrow, bright eyed and eager. Good night.” You hardly dare look but couldn’t resist glancing up to be met with a wolfish grin.

“Good evening, Sir,” you whispered hurrying to the door, intent on escape.

The sound of his voice once again stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh, one final matter. You are to accompany me to a meeting to take notes tomorrow. Dress as you did for your interview I think.”

“As you wish,” you muttered and almost ran down the corridor and into the street.

 

_____________ 

 

You had crawled into bed and yet again sleep eluded you and it was all the fault of Lucius Malfoy. Clattering your way out of the building as fast as your legs could carry you, you had leant back against the wall outside to compose yourself. Aware your cheeks were flushed and red, you hoped you could at least blame it on the cold weather and made your may to meet a dear friend for a drink.

Sitting in the bar, sipping at your butterbeer you imagined Lucius would find the whole scene uncouth and distasteful, not befitting a young lady in his employ. Why did that even enter your head? Why did you suddenly care?

“What’s wrong, sweetie, you seem so awfully distracted. Is it working for Malfoy? God it must be awful. I have no idea why you took the job in the first place. It’s not like you need the money so desperately and surely there are better things you could be doing than being one up from his house elves.” Your friend was trying to be kind, it wasn’t helping.

“He really isn’t that bad you know. Most of the time I’m left to get on with things.” The urge to defend him was new. Pushing it down, you smiled weakly. That man was haunting you.

“Oh come on, dish the dirt, there must be some. You can’t tell me he isn’t up to no good. We all know his reputation. I mean Slytherin…” your stare cut her off. “I mean not your dad of course, but come on, there must be shady comings and goings.”

“There aren’t. It’s very…boring. I promise.”

“Then what is wrong with you tonight? Is it a man? It’s a man I know it.” She pressed you hopefully, grinning at you madly.

“No. It’s not. I’m fine. Leave it alone.”

“Hmmm, I don’t believe you. Are you having another?”

It was tempting to try and drown out your day, but her constant questioning was a little too much and you made your excuses and went home.

Mentally drained and weary, you had opted for an early night. Now, hours later you still hadn’t come close to resting. Tossing and turning, your mind dragged you back to him constantly. Each time your mind drifted back to earlier in the day: to his body so agonisingly close to yours; the feel of his breath against the sensitive skin on your neck the dull ache between your legs returned; each time it thumped more aggressively until you could barely stand it. Thoughts wandered wickedly. What if he had leant forward, no more than half an inch would have done it and then his mouth would have been at your throat, kissing, biting making you moan deeply. The feel of his firm but painless grip on your arm was vivid, if only his hands had roamed further, his palm flat across your stomach pulling you into him tighter, fingers inching up your thighs and under your skirt, inside your panties, finding your pussy hot and dripping with need for him. Fuck you were so wet now. Unable to tolerate any more, your fingers found your own aching cunt and you stroked at your clit with a desperate urgency.

Wondering if he would be horrified at your need, would he admonish you for your behaviour? Your cheeks were aflame as you imagined his cold dismissal of you as a wanton, needy slut. It only fuelled your want, until you were softly panting his name under your breath like a gentle prayer. Watching his cold blue eyes and his mouth as he spoke in your interview made you consider him attractive for the first time and now, now you were burning up with lust. Is that really all it took? The thrilling fantasy of boldly striding into his office tomorrow morning and describing exactly what you had done to yourself the night before in exquisite detail made you whimper. You would tell him how you had teased and tormented yourself, toyed with your swollen clit, slid your own fingers inside, fucking yourself while you ached and dreamed of his hard cock. If only he had pushed you over the desk, bunched up your skirt and fucked you there and then. Oh, how he would be displeased. Perhaps he would chastise you. Fuck, that spiked your excitement and forced a soft cry from your lips. The utterly delicious and wicked and horrifying idea that Lucius Malfoy would put you across his knee and spank your bottom until it was red and raw sent you crashing over the edge. He would tell you what a thoroughly wicked girl you had been, how unacceptable your behaviour was to him, how deserved of your punishment you were. You were lost to it now. It made you gush uncontrollably, your thighs quivering and hot waves of pleasure surging out from your core as you imagined begging him for mercy.

Panting and exhausted you drifted slowly back down from your high, only to be hit by a wall of shame and embarrassment. Of course, you weren’t going to tell him what you had done. No, you would do all that was in your power to scurry past him and avoid all eye contact and small talk. Not just tomorrow, but forever. Lucius Malfoy had at best meant nothing by it, at worst he was entertaining himself with the amount of power he wielded.

In the dark and quiet, a thought struck you. Something that had been in lost in the blur of lust and bewilderment. Did he really enquire if you were single?


	3. The Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys, a quick update. I'm not going to lie, this thing has taken on a life of its own and it looks like a 20+ chapter epic on paper. There may even be plot. It's thin, but it is plot.  
> Please read the tags, there is some smut, but also a reference to sexual assault (nothing graphic or severe) but I don't want to upset anyone. 
> 
> Thank you for the kind words and kudos. Appreciated as always. Your thoughts on this chapter are definitely invited. I think Lucius is meant to be morally contradictory, so let me know how this works.
> 
> Cheers, Vin x

Lucius sat alone in his office. He was playing a dangerous game and he knew it, but he was unable to resist, she was just so thoroughly tempting, so readily compliant, inclined to acquiesce to his every whim; she complained at nothing. Having seen her briefly in social circles: poised; educated and graceful, he was rather surprised by the often-skittish thing he saw in his offices. The only reasonable conclusion he could draw was that his presence extracted this uncharacteristic response. Lucius had not been certain if it was simply out of fear, a response he was more than accustomed to or something more, something deeper and far more delicious. He had been sure he had seen her give him looks that lingered a little too long, it provoked him to test his theory today and now he knew without doubt there was opportunity there.

The thudding of her heartbeat, the hitching of her breath as he had leaned as close as he dare, oh he was most convinced now. That little minx was his for the taking and how he would enjoy it. She would be a pleasure to train, though he hoped she would not submit too easily, no where was the sport in that? There were glimmers of a far feistier side in that interview. The look of her was perfection. Those plump red lips in dire need of that lipstick smudging, her body pressed into that tight skirt that cryied out to be yanked up and ripped, her hair pinned up tightly and neatly waiting to be dragged into a mess; it was everything he could have wanted and more. His cock twitched at the very idea and an extension to her education. It wouldn’t be long before she mewled and begged by his hand.

Very much alone, in the privacy of his own offices, knowing with certainty he would not be disturbed, he took his already hard cock in his hand and drew long, rhythmic strokes. Closing his eyes, he imagined her ripe, exposed bottom high in the air, her wrists and ankles suitably bound as she fought to contain every whimper with every stroke of his palm across her bottom. He pictured the rosy imprint of his hand, marking her, branding her as his possession. Lucius only had to take one look at her to know that wench would thrive on his dominant attention, more than that, she would desire it so much she would misbehave to earn a greater punishment. When she could truly take no more, then, and only then would he fuck her, hot, willing, wet and welcoming. How she would plead until he relented, then she would thank him, so very grateful.

Lucius came with a hard grunt and smirked to himself. That charming little thing was so completely unprepared for what was to come, but it was not to be rushed. He strongly suspected her experiences were limited. No, he would play the long game this time.

 

___________________

 

You crept into the offices as quietly as you could. It struck you as rather unusual that Lucius was exceptionally early, generally a stickler for precise punctuality, he was always on time, no sooner, no later. The hope you could squirrel yourself away behind the safety of the door long before he arrived was shattered. Your only option was to face him and pass by as quickly as possible, avoiding eye contact and choosing your words carefully. Fantasy had overtaken you last night, forcing _those_ thoughts out of your mind was an ongoing struggle.

“Ah, good morning,” he said in an uncharacteristically chirpy tone.

It threw you immediately. Your cheeks were flushed as it was, making cheery small talk was an unexpected hinderance to your attempts to conceal the shame burnt on your face. Try as you might, he was nothing if not observant.

“You look terribly red-faced, it must be that dreadful bracing wind. The weather is insufferable at present, don’t you think? Here, come and warm yourself by the fire a moment.”

“I’m fine really, I can light the stove next door. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you,” your excuses were feeble, you sounded like you were lying to the Ministry about something terrible. Other than wearing a flashing sign saying ‘guilty’ in bold neon letters there was little else you could do to look any less suspicious.

“Not all,” he smiled pure evil, “I insist.”

Lucius signalled to the enormous armchair by the already roaring fire.

“Thank you,” you barely rasped. Of all the days for him to start introducing civility and friendliness to the workplace, it had to be today. Normally, slipping past him in the morning was effortless. Most days he barely registered your arrival; not today. The rumour he was a highly skilled legilimens invaded your thoughts. Oh goodness, did he know? The indecent imaginings you had succumbed to still burnt white hot through your body. You were holding on, but it was just contained below the surface. You couldn’t look him in the eye, you couldn’t look at him at all, even the sight of the desk was a minefield. You took a seat cautiously, the vast chair seeming to engulf you, and you focused your attention on the flames. It was hardly helpful imagery.

“It is chilly, don’t you agree? Even for this time of year?”

Lucius Malfoy had terrified and excited you, he had never completely baffled you. The very thought of him chattering about _the weather_ of all things was throwing you even further off kilter. Searching for a distraction, you warmed your hands dramatically and nodded.

“We shall depart for the meeting at ten o’clock. You must take detailed notes of the conversation. I expect you to miss nothing and to say nothing. Is your task clear?”

There was something reassuring in his exacting orders, it at least appeared normal, if you could ever call working there ‘normal’.

“Absolutely clear.” You nodded over enthusiastically and tried to smile. It felt so unnatural and forced it made your face hurt.

“Then if you require no more clarification, I shall take tea now.”

It took every ounce of self-control to rise gracefully and overcome the urge to run to the refuge of your own space. Challenging as it was, you thought you just about pulled it off. Slowly preparing the drink at least gave you a moment out of sight, to regroup. Once you had silently deposited it on the desk, you were thankfully undisturbed until the tenth chime of the clock announced it was time to go. You had decided you needed help and cast two charms, one to aid your writing, the other a listening charm.

Making your way through the crowded and bustling street in the company of Lucius Malfoy quickly taught you two things. Firstly, wearing heels and trying to keep up was a terrible idea. You had to virtually run to keep up with his pace, though it seemed perfectly natural and effortless to him. Secondly, people stared, they stared _a lot_. It shouldn’t really have come as any great shock to you. He turned heads. Some looked on purely because of his fame, some because of his infamy, others you imagined had their eye drawn by a striking and imposing figure of a man. Either way a path seemed to clear in front of him as he glided down the street. Witches and wizards appeared to step aside. A few even bothered to look you up and down and spoke amongst themselves in hushed tones, their glances questioning who you were and whether you were of any consequence. It was an unsettling journey and you were glad to reach your destination. Lucius paused at the entrance, allowing you to catch up.

“Come along girl, we have no time for dawdling and daydreaming.”

The meeting itself took place in the vast and grand boardroom of a fellow Slytherin business man. It seemed like a glorified all boys network. He briefly introduced you as his assistant, two of the men seemed extremely disinterested, though the host was a little more pleasant at first.

“Ah yes,” said the short, rather overweight man with a ridiculous moustache. “I know your father of course, a gentleman of the finest house there is. Never did fathom why he never sent you up to Hogwarts. A very fine addition to Slytherin you would have been.” Though his booming voice and superficially friendly demeanour made him appear jolly, there was something off and lecherous about the way his eyes skimmed over you. “Beauxbaton’s wasn’t it?” he enquired, increasingly obvious and open in his gawping.

“Yes, indeed,” you said through gritted teeth, “and finishing school in Switzerland, Madam Raffinesse’s, for Lady Witches.”

You smiled, though it pained you.

“Divine, divine,” he said as he patted your bottom.

Your mouth was opening to protest, your arm reacting to the invasion and moving almost of its own accord to slap the man in the face. Lucius raised his hand to silence you and prevent you from completing the action. The urge to ignore it and berate the idiot was strong, but you were certain you had caught your employer delivering a deathly stare to your assailant. This time you would bite your tongue.

“Now Malfoy…” he started up again. It was a blessed relief he had lost interest in you. The other two were far quieter, one thin and sallow, the other rather non-descript. They nodded and remained expressionless. Once the meeting was underway, their chatter was convoluted and constantly secretive, stopping mid-sentence as one of the others silently gestured towards you.

“Oh, come now gentlemen, you may speak freely, she is after all one of us,” Lucius hissed and patted your arm. It was unexpected and threw you a little. You decided it was probably more for the benefit of his companions than an act of reassurance for you.

They seemed to relax after that and spoke quickly. You had never been so grateful you had the forethought to cast those charms. It may have been an impossible task without magic. Lucius would glance in your direction occasionally and you fought the urge to become totally distracted and watch him: assured; arrogant and articulate. He commanded the room with ease. Somehow, you managed to maintain your concentration until proceedings concluded. You were still silently fuming at the audacity of that smiling buffoon. The quieter two exchanged emotionless pleasantries and left, leaving only your wandering-handed pest and Lucius. He eyed you again. You disliked it immensely.

“A word, my old friend, before I leave,” Lucius said. He turned to you, “Leave us a moment,” he snapped.

Standing patiently in the hallway on the other side of a closed door, you were confused to still be able to hear Lucius’ voice rather clearly.  It dawned on you that the listening charm you had cast earlier in the day was rather more effective than you had imagined.

“Now, now old boy. Try and keep your eyes where they ought to be. You were a wand’s wave away from undressing her completely.” His tone seemed companionable enough, yet there was an edge to his voice you had heard before. It was terrible to stand and eavesdrop, yet you couldn’t help it. The justification that you had specifically directed the charm to those in attendance at the meeting and you had no idea what the range might be was weak but satisfied your moral compass enough to continue.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t had a look, or more, eh? She’s a fine figure of a girl. Tempting is she not?”

“I hadn’t noticed,” he replied bluntly. Your rage blended with a twinge of disappointment.

“Well perhaps I might have a crack at her then?”

“Whatever would your dearest Sybil say to that, old chap?” Lucius replied. There was a definite sharpness to that.

“Poppycock, Malfoy. We are stuck with wives for the rest of our lives, there are young fillies for fun. You know that…” His voice trailed off. It had been a long time since Lucius Malfoy had been a married man. It was a sore point.  

“I advise you to leave well alone,” Malfoy snapped.

“Well of course no, I wouldn’t want to tread on your toes.”

There was a scuffling sound. Your imagination filled in the blanks and you could picture Lucius gripping the other man by his collar and pushing him against the wall. A satisfied smirk crept across your face.

“You aren’t, but that girl is in my employ and therefore under my care and off limits.”

“Be…be careful then my friend because that girl looks at you like she’s very much hoping to be employed by you in other ways.”

There was a low groan. Whatever had occurred was the source of discomfort.

“Nonsense. Now is the deal done as we arranged?”

“Of course, of course. I can give you my word and my word is…”

“Silence,” Lucius demanded. “Say nothing to those two. They don’t need to know any more and they don’t need to know we are cutting them out of the deal.”

A thud suggested Lucius had let go of his associate.

“Malfoy you haven’t changed a bit,” the man seemed rather grovelling now.

“No. I haven’t.” There was a brief pause and you imagined he was putting on his cloak and gloves. “One more thing. Keep your hands to yourself in the future, lest I should have to turn you to bones and feed you to my hounds. Good day.”

A second later he burst through the doors, a displeased sneer on his face.

“Come along, girl,” he bellowed as he left you in his wake.

You scrambled to pick up your jaw at the conversation you had just overheard and clattered after him as fast as your legs and ridiculous shoes would allow.


	4. The Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your continued support, kind words and kudos. It all keeps me going. Sorry sauce fans, this is a smut free chapter, but hang on because there is a lot to come! 
> 
> Enjoy and let me know what you think. I will try and update regularly, at the moment I am really enjoying writing this and it has taken on a bit of a plot, a naff one, but there is a little bit of story to accompany the smut!
> 
> Thanks guys!

You said nothing on the journey back to the offices. What could you say? Still reeling from the shock that Lucius Malfoy had gone out of his way to defend you, coherent words and thoughts eluded you. Had he gone as far as to warn him off? You didn’t dare dwell on that possibility and what it might mean, it would drive you insane. Besides, it was ridiculous it was an expression of anything more than his displeasure at someone overstepping the mark. Even if you could think of something to say, it was unlikely to be intelligible and it wasn’t as if you could broach the subject. Embarrassment aside, you weren’t meant to have heard any of that conversation; you could hardly announce you had listened in like a spy. The fact that it was unintentional would hardly register. You could certainly kiss your job goodbye; you could kiss _him_ goodbye. Oh dear, that was a thought and a half. You could kick yourself for allowing your imagination to run away with you; he wasn’t even nice to you.

Upping your pace, as he left you trailing behind in his wake, you tried your best to keep up and not fall over. This was the best you could hope for. Lucius appeared to glide through the busy street. He stopped. It was sharp and abrupt, a movement that rather suited him, so sudden you almost clattered into him. Smoothing down your cloak, conscious you must look dishevelled and out of breath, you did your best to look composed.

He turned slowly.

“I am in need of sustenance and intend to stop for lunch. You shall join me.”

It wasn’t a question, or even a request, but a rather blunt instruction. On other days it might have irritated you that he felt so absolutely entitled to claim your lunch break, however today he was forgiven. It begged the question how much you might be able to let slide when it came to your employer. Despite that the slightly bemused expression on your face had clearly registered. Though it rarely had an impact on his demeanour or attitude, he was evidently not oblivious to non-verbal cues. You had wondered at times.

“At my expense, of course,” he added.

While a kind gesture from someone else, in other circumstances may have come with a smile, not him. No, he stared hard at you, virtually challenging you to have the audacity to refuse. Perhaps you should, but you were never going to. His icy glare still unnerved you. Lucius was an intimidating man, though you had always been able to hold your own and did not suffer fools gladly, he was something else entirely. You tried not to look for too long. Fear was giving way to alarmingly omnipresent knot in your stomach that seemed to tighten at inconvenient times. That knot was twisting right now, beginning to tug at you, the first signs of liquid heat starting to pool in your underwear. How did he do it? With just a look? Not any look either, but an arrogant, defiant, disdainful look that should horrify you, but instead turned you to mush. If you didn’t know better, you would have put it down to dark magic.

“Thank you, Sir, that is most kind,” you mustered feebly. You needed to pull yourself together. After all you had to get through the meal.

The proprietor looked heartened yet dismayed by the arrival of a wealthy but disgraced, pure-blood wizard on the premises. You imagined he spent well but was a difficult customer and would hardly be shy of making a complaint. The pleading-faced owner seated you at the best table, by the fire in the hopes of appeasing his challenging patron.

“Will you take wine with your meal?” Lucius asked expressionlessly.

Hesitant to agree, it crossed your mind that this could be a test. Before you could make up your mind he had already ordered a very pricey bottle and specified two glasses.

“I wondered if it was wise. I wouldn’t like to think my work was impaired this afternoon,” you said. There was a grain of truth and the horrific image of you drunkenly saying something you would regret.

Still looking unimpressed, he replied, “I’m certain the level of duties you undertake can be completed to a satisfactory standard, even mildly inebriated.”

You gritted your teeth.

“I like to think my efforts exceed merely satisfactory.”

He studied you for a moment. His face softened a fraction.

“Confidence, a quality I can appreciate, yet see so rarely in you. Besides,” he said changing the subject, “we must celebrate a highly successful transaction. A most fruitful morning.”

Snatching your notebook, he flicked through your scribblings from the meeting.

“A pleasing effort, surprisingly efficient,” he smiled, delivering a backhanded compliment. “I did note your attendance at Madam Raffinesse’s Finishing School. I am familiar with the establishment. It is highly respected, and I imagine the experience was illuminating, if a little dull.”

You smirked. It was fair to say that illicit parties were a requirement, if only to numb the boredom. The curriculum was a dry diet of social mores, etiquette and deportment. You had even been taught the wonders of domestic magic and how to conduct yourself on muggle occasions, though you thought it best not to mention that since it was likely to colour a Malfoy’s perception of the place.

“Your expression tells me I may be misinformed. You must regale me with some of your most salacious stories sometime.”

His eyebrow shot up, the whole thing surprisingly light-hearted, but you managed to relax a little.

“They may be a great disappointment to you I fear. Though I admit it perhaps wasn’t as dull as you may expect. We were worked rather hard, but there was a social scene.”

“Hmmm, then I can be assured you are well-versed enough in social propriety whilst maintaining the ability to, shall we say, let down one’s hair.”

You gulped down your wine faster than you should, but you felt a little bolder.

“Oh, I like to think I can enjoy a good party,” you grinned, before becoming conscious you had started to twirl a stray strand of hair round your finger like an idiotic school girl and backtracked quickly, adding, “without making an exhibition of myself at least.”

“Then it is settled,” he announced. “you shall accompany me to the Grand Winter Ball.”

You were dumbstruck. It was understood there would be some evening events to attend, possibly some social events, but you expected nothing so prestigious as this.

“I…I don’t know what to say, thank you. It would be a pleasure.”

“Now don’t get carried away, girl,” he snapped, “there is business to be done and you shall act as my eyes and ears. Your presence is a little more…disarming than mine. Don’t you agree?”

“Of course, of course. I understand. I’ll do my best.”

“I expect nothing less. Believe me, more business is done at the parties and around the dinner tables of the influential than has ever taken place on a street such as this.”

His lips curled into that wicked smile, as cold and calculated as ever. It should give you the shivers, instead it made you melt.

Managing to make small talk, you survived the meal. Though you tried to sip your wine, it hadn’t escaped your notice that you had drained your glass more than once and Malfoy had been quick to top it up. You barely noticed the second bottle arrive, but you knew you daren’t drink anymore, still sober enough to be mindful of the fear of embarrassing yourself. As he tried once more to replenish your drink, you instinctively reached out to stop him, your fingers awkwardly brushing against his.

“Please, I really couldn’t drink another drop, I may be utterly useless to you for the rest of the day,” you pleaded.

“Come, come, another glass surely wouldn’t do any harm. Besides it would be criminal to waste a fine vintage such as this. I thought the Swiss party scene may have better prepared you.”

Trying to work out his expression was always a challenge, you almost read disappointment. In truth, you could generally hold your liquor reasonably well, but since nervous excitement and terror had ruined your appetite and you had wolfed down the first, generous glass he had poured to fortify yourself, you were starting to feel fuzzy. The food was good, and you felt guilty for eating so little. Malfoy had noted your reluctance and tried to insist it was returned to the kitchen immediately if it wasn’t up to scratch. Now you were regretting not eating more.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” you giggled.

It just came out, you didn’t think about it, but now you wished you could pull your words back in. The joke fell flat. Lucius looked stern, even more than usual.

“Absolutely not. What could possibly give you that impression? Foolish girl. You should hurry along, you’re very late in returning to the office and I have matters to attend to elsewhere.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled as you threw on your cloak.

Lucius said nothing more and ushered you out as he paid the bill. You didn’t say which way he went after that, but walked slowly back to the office, your heart heavy and a fiery agony in the soles of your feet as you trudged along in your heels.

Thankful he was out for the rest of the afternoon, you set about your remaining tasks. A twinge of guilt hit you as you formally minuted the meeting. Malfoy was up to something underhand. If only you hadn’t heard that. Ignorance would indeed be bliss. Despite your misgivings, you continued. If this was a test of loyalty, perhaps you would pass after all. Quite certain not one of the three he had met with were completely honourable men, you only wished he wasn’t working with that odious little man.

Lucius did not return that evening. Relief was tinged with another feeling. You had glanced between the clock and the door more times than you cared to admit, the frequency increasing as you reached the final working hour of the day. It was no use; you had missed him. Sighing deeply, as the clock finally struck five, you packed up your belongings and made your way home grudgingly.

 

________________

 

Though you had been in two minds whether to cancel, suspecting you would be poor company, you didn’t have the heart to let down your friend. Now you found yourself sat on your sofa, grateful for the company of the mischievous Essie Blott. While you adored her deeply, being alone had never troubled you. An only child, you had rather struggled with the bustle of a dormitory when you had first gone away to school. Peaceful evenings had been a cherished blessing; these days they were rapidly becoming a tortured fight not to think about Lucius Malfoy. Aloof and as constantly displeased as ever, he gave you no sign of any interest in you whatsoever most of the time, yet his words at the meeting still rung in your ears. It wasn’t easy to imagine him acting out of simple, common decency. You had gathered quickly his approach to business, whilst not technically illegal to the best of your knowledge, rather bent the rules of fairness. It baffled you why he had bothered to be outraged on your behalf.

At least this evening you hoped you could put him out of your mind. Your companion was a welcome distraction. You shuddered at the very idea your employer would be aware of your evening’s activity, doing the unspeakable and viewing a muggle television. The expression of disgust on his face if he had witnessed the scene of two giggling young witches, drinking and consuming deeply unhealthy snacks to such low brow entertainment amused you. The determination not to spend another night pouring over every detail of his face usually weakened by your second glass of wine, since this was your fifth it seemed inevitable.

“I wish you’d cheer up, you seem so, I don’t know distracted, miserable even most of the time. Here’s something to put a smile on your face. That delightful young chap, the one who comes in the shop all the time, knows we’re friends, asks about you all the time, well he was in again today. Asking after you, _again_. I wish you could think who he is. He’s adorable. I promise.”

Essie looked positively gleeful. “He likes you. I mean I’d be there in a heartbeat, but it’s definitely you he likes. He looked awfully disappointed when I told him you were working for Malfoy. You should go on a date, you never know.”

Sighing, you insisted, “no. No dates, no blind dates, no double dates, no matchmaking of any kind.”

She pouted back at you. “He’s very nice, handsome, reasonably well connected. You could do a lot worse. He could free you from the evil clutches of Malfoy. You could get married, oh I must buy a hat. Any excuse to buy a hat, you know me.”

“I like my job,” you snapped back. “I don’t need to be rescued by some man who comes in the shop. Now stop it. Besides, he isn’t that bad.”

“Oh, he’s better than not bad…” she trailed off. “Ew you mean Malfoy, you can’t possibly like _him_. So arrogant, snooty and sneering. Isn’t he awfully hard work?”

You shrugged. There was nothing there you could deny. “He can be…demanding, I admit. He can also be decent.”

“Hmmm believe it when I see it. Now that boy would be…”

“No,” you laughed hitting her gently over the head with a cushion.

“So, what exactly are the perks of working for Lucius Malfoy I mean aside from the long hours, shocking wages and lack of appreciation?” she enquired as your laughter subsided.

“Well if you must know, he’s taking me to the Grand Winter Ball.”

That shut her up, but only for a second as she began to squeal with excitement. Tickets were rare and hideously expensive. Only the wealthiest, most admired and respected made it through the doors. It was a veritable who’s who of the great and good of the wizarding world.

“Arrrggghhhh, I can’t breathe, that is so exciting, I’m so jealous. So happy for you, but horribly, wickedly jealous. Can’t you sneak me in disguised as a handbag? Didn’t your parents go once?”

“Yes, it was an anniversary gift for my mother, it cost my father who knows what, but she’d always wanted to go.”

“Come on, let’s celebrate together, properly.”

Essie took your hand and dragged you to your feet.

“One, two, three,” she counted, then you both jumped up and down hugging each other.

As it finally calmed down and you fell back into your seats, she asked, “do you think Potter will be there? I’m a fan, you could ask Malfoy.” She grinned wickedly, and you playfully elbowed her.

“Oh, that would be wonderful. A breach of contract no less,” you smiled.

“But seriously,” she asked you with a trace of genuine concern, “why is he taking you? I mean what does he want from you?”

You wished you knew.

“It’s just business stuff, that’s all,” you said.

How you wished it was more.

 

 

 

 


	5. Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, thank you so much for your continued and overwhelming support, kind words and kudos. I am still having a wonderful time writing this, so hope you continue to enjoy it. I know it's a bit of a slow burn, but trust me it will be smutty as hell once we get there, so hang in filth fiends!
> 
> I really do appreciate comments and feedback, I'm not at expert level on Harry Potter, so if I have made a total blunder on that front, please let me know and why it's wrong so I can put things right.  
> Unbeta'd as usual, no patience for that, so all errors are my own silly fault. 
> 
> Cheers and enjoy!

You found yourself sinking back into something soft, uncertain if it was a bed or a sofa; Lucius was on top of you pressing you downwards. You could feel the weight of him: his knee demanding your legs part for him; his mouth on yours, greedy and insistent. Each kiss grew warmer, wetter, more urgent and lustful and you moaned into his mouth for more. Heat pooled between your legs and you felt the tips of his fingers sliding wickedly over your inner thigh, tracing over the lace band at the top of your stocking.

“How very wicked of you, how very naughty indeed,” he rasped in your ear. “How you have teased and invited this. The predicament you find yourself in is entirely your fault.”

You could say nothing, as his fingers ascended higher, stroking you through your dampened underwear as he bit and licked at your neck. Unsure when you had even undressed at all, you had lost your blouse. His other hand now cupped your breast through the flimsy fabric of your bra. Wordless murmurs and breathy moans were all you could give in reply. Lucius yanked roughly at your panties, leaving you bare and exposed. He looked down at you, a hopeless hot mess underneath him, and you could do nothing but silently plead for more; for his touch; for the release you knew he could give you so effortlessly. Of course, he made you wait. He watched you squirm and allowed your desperation to mount until you were barely conscious of the actions of your body, yet you were thrusting your hips upward to urge him on.

“My how very needy, how desperate of you.” He smiled at you wickedly.

“Please, Lucius, please,” you whined. “I need you to, I need it.”

Sighing, as if it were a chore, he finally relented. “Very well then.”

His fingers found you soaked and sensitive and you let out a sharp cry as he slid two fingers inside your aching cunt. It was bliss, delightful, wicked bliss as he worked them in and out. Unable to help yourself, you bucked wildly. Control was completely abandoned as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to release, screaming his name as he made your pleasure soar; you were almost there. Then nothing. It was gone.

You awoke in a wild, panting and confused state, your brow dampened with a thin sheen of sweat, and you thumped your fist against the pillow in a fit of frustration. You had slept badly the night before. After too much wine and giggling, Essie had fallen asleep at your flat and you awoke to find a note saying she had left early for the bookshop and would see you later. Realising it was Saturday, you decided to return to bed. Sleep seemed to elude you so often now, the opportunity to lie-in and a catch up on rest had been far too appealing to turn down. It was fair to say you had managed to fall asleep almost as quickly as your head touched the pillow, it had been a deep sleep, the only problem was a certain someone was only waiting to invade your dreams.

Letting out a deep sigh, you chastised your own subconscious for conjuring up such visions and briefly considered a dreamless sleep potion. Those things were considered very unhealthy and came with so many alarming warnings, you didn’t think it was really worth the risk. Instead you got up with a determination to get on with your day, keep busy and try to do something to deal with this. You needed an outlet for all of this pent up sexual frustration. An idea came to you, but you would need the assistance of a trustworthy and discreet friend, one with a shop to be precise. After showering and dressing you decided to make your way to Diagon Alley, browse the shops and go and pester Essie for a new book. Lurking around the flat on your own certainly wasn’t going to help.

Finding yourself, as you often did, staring in the most expensive robe shop, you admired the most luxurious fabrics and finest stitching, all hand made by elves. Window shopping was a harmless pursuit, though you knew at present such things were beyond your reach. Adamant you would make your own way in the world, you had declined an allowance, a rather generous one at that, from your father to supplement your income and flatly refused to go begging, especially for things you didn’t actually need. Even so, something caught your eye above anything else in the opulent display of finery. A shock of azure blue in the softest and most beautiful silk hung effortlessly on a moving mannequin. With slender shoestring straps, the dress scooped down at the back and swept to the floor. You must have been staring at it for at least five minutes, almost daring yourself to enquire about it, knowing its price tag would be eye-watering and end your dreams of owning it. It would be splendid for the Winter Ball. Even with an optimistic guess at the cost, you worked out quickly that if you saved everything you had, opted to forgo eating and raided your meagre savings account at Gringotts, it would take months to raise the funds. The ball was a fortnight away, you would have to find something more affordable, or wear something you already had in the wardrobe.

Preparing yourself to move on down the street, you were stopped by a familiar hiss in your ear which announced the presence of none other than Lucius Malfoy.

“It seems, we cannot avoid one another, even on Saturdays when the demands of commerce are lessened.”

You closed your eyes and tried to exhale quietly, only to remember that the look on your face would be clearly reflected in the immaculately polished glass of the shop window. It ran through your mind that for once it would have been preferrable to be stood in Knockturn Alley where the windows all had a decidedly grubbier sheen and might have made far less effective mirrors.

“Good afternoon, Sir,” you muttered, trying desperately not to think about anything you shouldn’t. Flashes of your vivid imaginings from earlier in the day tried to force their way to the front of your thoughts. Forcing yourself to open your eyes, you observed him leaning in towards your ear in the reflection on the glass.

“Do you see anything you like?” Lucius whispered and casually swept your hair away from your neck.

“Very much,” you swallowed, “though sadly nothing I could afford.” It was a lame attempt at making light of the situation. It didn’t help.

“I do hope that isn’t a hint at a wage increase?” he said rather coldly.

“Not at all,” you lied, but knew you were presently in no state of mind to try to negotiate the terms of your employment.

“Perhaps,” he hissed again, his fingers curling around your shoulder, “you have earned a little more. A young witch should be free to indulge herself in life’s _pleasures_ from time to time, don’t you think?”

He had drawled those words, then suddenly his tone shifted. “But, I forget, your father is a man of reasonable means, would he not extend a generous hand to his only daughter and fund a treat or two?”

“I intend to pay my own way in the world, Sir,” you said rather resolutely.

“It is perhaps foolhardy not to use your status and connections, however there is something admirable in that. I rather wish my own son had a little of your independent spirit.” A deep, wistful, look briefly flashed across his face, as if that was the most honest thing he had ever said to you, though he snapped out of it in a second. “I shall consider reviewing your wages.”

“I…don’t. I would appreciate it, thank you.” You tried to retain your cool, inside you were about to combust.

Lucius laughed wickedly and vanished from behind you almost as suddenly as he had appeared.

Letting out a long puff of air, you pressed your hand against the glass to steady yourself, only to see the haughty shop assistant appear at the window to wave you on with a scowl. You left only a slightly clammy handprint on the otherwise sparkling window and hurried on.

 

__________

 

As Lucius walked away, he had a wicked smirk on his face. Oh, what a dear little rabbit, caught in the bright lights, heart pounding at the very thought of the clever fox in pursuit. He could almost feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickling, felt the taut erotic tension in her shoulder under his fingers. Yes, he could sense the ache in her and it pleased him immensely. Still, he would be patient and choose his moment. It was still too soon.

He tried not to dwell on his mention of Draco, they were barely even strangers to one another these days, not that they had ever been that close, he had always been his mother’s son. It occurred to him just how long it had been since they had last spoken. Hopeless, wasteful boy, always eager to raid the coffers of the family fortune yet took not the slightest bit of interest in running and preserving the business. Lucius believed he would come around eventually.

In the meantime, he would occupy himself with his quarry and that couldn’t be progressing any better.

 

______________

 

It was fair to say you almost tumbled into the relative safety of Flourish and Blotts on the North Side and it was a relief to see Essie cheerily dotting around the children’s section surrounded by miniature witches and wizards, who darted around her legs.

“Oh, my dear, you look ghastly!” she exclaimed, “come along, let’s get you put back together,” she insisted as she dragged you along to a quieter corner of the shop. Stopping only to wave and bid farewell to her small friends, who chanted ‘goodbye Essie’ in unison, she bundled you behind an obscure book shelf.

“Whatever is wrong, you look white as a sheet?”

“Nothing, honestly I’m fine,” you reassured.

“Well you don’t look it and you were fine last night.” She folded her arms in the manner of a school mistress.

“Thank you very much,” you smiled and leant in. It was best to get this over with quickly. “I want to buy…a book,” you whispered.

“Well funnily enough you’ve come to the right place, the right place since 1454, no less.” She was always chirpy. “What do you want? Adventure, no wait, biography? True crime? Yes, you might even find Malfoy’s face in one of those.”

You frowned at the thought, that was the last face you were hoping to see and lowered your voice again. “I want something…adult.”

“Ooh, dipping in to the restricted section of the school library, how thrilling.”

“We didn’t have one, I went to school in France, remember,” you were trying not to be short with her, but it was awkward enough as it was.

“Well what then?”

Groaning, you looked around for anyone who may be listening, the coast seemed clear. “Something,” you took a last scan down the aisle, “racy.”

In a mix of shock and amusement, Essie giggled and smirked. “Oh, my goodness, well we don’t keep _those_ out on the shelves of course.” Disappointment was starting to kick in. “But,” she announced dramatically, “we do have a selection of that type of read that we store out of sight. May I ask what has sparked this sudden interest? Or more to the point, perhaps, who?”

She was giddy and grinning. You returned only a slight glare. “Come on then, they’re out the back, though I have no idea what’s there you understand.”

You found yourself leafing through a pile of salacious tomes in a box marked ‘adult witches and wizards only’. Most were enchanted or unlocked by special password to bar access to those who were not of age.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer a nice, wholesome romance?” Essie said.

You read more into that than a query about literary genre.

“Stop making this awkward. You’re supposed to be my best friend. Besides, you must have read some of them, you grew up in a bookshop.”

“I hardly grew up in a shop, but of course not, terrible things. That one’s a good one,” she said pointing at the book currently in your hand. Your eyebrow shot up. “So…so I’ve heard,” she added before finally shrugging her shoulders and failing to look innocent.

“Fine, I’ll take this one then,” you decided, settling on a black leather-bound volume with the blood-red title, ‘ _The Pleasure of Pain’_. Rather than be seen purchasing it, Essie offered to let you settle up for it later and you stuffed it into your bag out of sight before re-entering the busy shop floor.

“I’ll see you later,” she bellowed as she was swamped by customers, “I can’t wait for the review!”  

Making your way through the narrow doorway, into the packed street with your eyes fixed on the pavement, you found yourself thrown directly into the path of a solid figure. Colliding with the man with such a clatter sent your bag hurtling out of your hand. Dying silently, as the world seemed to slip into slow motion and your possessions, including the book spilled out onto the ground. You doubted you had ever moved so fast as you scrambled to grab it and spare your shame, mumbling apologies for your clumsiness.

It was too late. You snatched desperately for the book, but there was already a man’s hand on it, gripping it tightly and refusing to let go. How you wished the stranger had been less of gentleman and hadn’t bothered to stop and help. You raised your eyes slowly, wishing you could close them and just disapparate away to literally anywhere but here in this moment. Finally, your gaze met the stranger’s sparkling blue irises. They were terrifying. They were familiar. They were unmistakeably the eyes of Lucius Malfoy.

“We must stop bumping in to one another so frequently,” he grinned, loaded with pure evil, “I am beginning to think you are intentionally throwing yourself into my path.”

Much as you tried to slide the book away and hold his gaze in the feeble hope he might not notice, it was too late. He glanced down at the book in his hand and this time showed his teeth as his wicked smile broadened.

“What a… liberated taste in literature you have. I may blush.”

Lucius Malfoy did not blush, of that you were absolutely certain. You on the other hand, were rapidly turning a deep shade of crimson.  Managing to snatch it away, you scooped up your remaining possessions and stuffed them into your bag, while he drew himself coolly to his feet and extended a hand to help you up. His usual look of disdain had returned. It was vaguely comforting under these circumstances. You took his hand meekly and tried not to look him in the eye, as he aided you to your feet.

“I shall see you on Monday morning, if your reading has not… thoroughly exhausted you of course. Good day.”

With that he was gone.


	6. The Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, some trope and cheddar-laden build up. Trust me the smut is coming!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading my self-indulgent twaddle, leaving kind and delightful comments, kudos, bookmarks and subs. I am grateful, humbled and overwhelmed by your support. Cheers to MsEllieJane and BlackQat for kindly offering to beta this.
> 
> Please tolerate my indulgent trope-laden cheese fest. I have been temporarily taken by the plot bunnies. Smut service 100% resumes at Chapter 8 at the latest. I hope the pay off is worthwhile. 
> 
> Comments, constructive critique and thoughts are most welcome, as always. I hope you are all still enjoying this.  
> Feel free to follow my nonsense on Twitter @Vintage1983V #teambasement welcomes all Jason Isaacs enthusiasts!  
> Enjoy!

You were beyond mortified. Yet again, you found yourself rushing home to hide yourself from anyone and everyone, silently cursing yourself for taking that stupid book. It was foolish to imagine a work of erotic fiction might be the solution to your fixation with Lucius. Curious as you were, the damn thing had been the source of enough embarrassment for one day and had hardly been the distracting remedy for your problem you might have hoped; if anything, it had only exasperated things. Trying not to imagine what he must have thought, you hardly dared look at it.

As the evening wore on, inquisitiveness eventually got the better of you. It was always going to. Finally, you had another glass of wine and could resist it no more. Flicking through the contents, your cheeks started to flush. It was rather detailed and explicit. You could only hope Lucius wasn’t familiar with the work, and he had nothing but a sketchy idea of what was contained inside. At first you didn’t quite know what to make of it all, the tying up, the spanking, the rules. There were seemingly endless rules and punishments, which excited you, though you were uncomfortable to admit it..

As you read, your breathing grew heavier with each page, and you knew for certain it was making you wet. You also hadn’t expected to find it scattered with numerous moving illustrations, or for it to be charmed to bond with its reader. You found your own name woven into the text, and as you read on, the images of the young protagonist became unmistakably you. Turning the page, the next illicit artwork formed. Initially you registered your own face, then the revelation came. The previously unknown male  staring back at you from the page took on the familiar form of Lucius Malfoy. Snapping the book shut, you allowed yourself to let out a displeased growl. There was no escaping him, no respite at all. In your place of work, in your thoughts, in your dreams and now even in your books. Sighing you slumped down, uncertain if Monday couldn’t come soon enough, or if you hoped to be consumed by the nearest available ferocious beast before work could come around.

___________

 

Though it had seemed like an eternity away when you had first been invited, the Winter Ball seemed to come around far more quickly than you could have imagined. You were thankful your employer had not raised the subject of the book, and you had managed to get on with your tasks as best you could. Once or twice you were sure he had alluded to it, as he overemphasised the word ‘reading’, but there was nothing concrete and you shrugged it off as paranoia. It was difficult to imagine Lucius Malfoy was easily shocked; there was certainly nothing you could do or say to create such a reaction. Perhaps he didn’t even remember.

Thankful he had been out of the office more than usual, and you also found yourself increasingly out and about running errands. The less time you were both there, the better. Concentration on routine office tasks could easily be lost if you allowed yourself to think about Lucius. Though you tried your best to keep a lid on your wicked thoughts, that book had done little to alleviate the problem. Instead of promptly answering an owl, you would slip off into the vivid fantasy of him slowly binding your wrists and ankles, spanking your bottom and telling you that you had been a terribly naughty girl. Each time you wandered dangerously down that track, you tried to remind yourself that you couldn’t be certain Lucius wasn’t able to read these thoughts, and secondly, you might not be in the job long enough to even see the ball if you didn’t get things done. Either way, you leapt at the chance of getting out. You were unclear if this was a sign of increased trust, or simply a tactic to give him some time to himself to conduct whatever nefarious business schemes you weren’t privy to. Your trips out were mostly mundane, though you often wondered what was contained in those mysterious and magically sealed boxes he sent you to fetch from Borgin and Burke’s. Still, you knew it was best not to ask questions, and since your literary revelations, it was still preferable than any unnecessary awkwardness.

Now the day of the Ball was here. Essie had spoken of little else for the last two weeks. She was a good friend; there was no hint of envy or disappointment in her voice, though she must have felt it. Instead she had channelled her boundless energy into excitement and enthusiasm on your behalf.

You ventured sheepishly into Lucius’ office. Clearing your throat to announce your presence, you asked a dreaded question. “I wondered, might I leave a little earlier than usual this afternoon?”

Quizzed by his eyes alone, he pressed you to explain yourself.

“I have a few…personal matters to attend to before we depart in this evening.”

“Hmm…” He studied you intently. “Important matters of appearance no doubt? I suppose working or otherwise, a young witch will always wish to look her best on such occasions. I shall allow it, though don’t expect to make a habit of it.”

You thanked him rather meekly, then were struck by the fact that you were unlikely to see your bed before two in the morning. It would have been rather mean of him to object.

“I myself, have business to attend to and shall be out for the rest of the day. You are to return here at 6.30 sharp this evening. Don’t be late,” he said as he picked up his cane and disappeared through the door.

There was no sign of Lucius, or much of anything else for the rest of the day. The business world was winding down, and anyone who was anyone would be in attendance tonight. Just as you were about to give up on any activity at all and sneak away, there was a knock at the door. The delivery boy looked nervous. It came as no surprise; he must have met Lucius before. He handed over an item in a shining white wrapping, immaculately presented, and you took it in.

There was a small note, addressed to you. Carefully opening the expensive envelope, your jaw dropped as you read the words in a familiar, curled and elaborate script. ‘ _A Gift. To appear presentable. LM’_. With added care you gently unwrapped the package. Contained within layers of fine tissue paper, there it was. _The_ dress. Not just any dress, but the one you had been admiring in the shop window the day Lucius had appeared behind you. It was an unexpected turn of events; as a kind gesture from Lucius Malfoy seemed highly unlikely, yet there it was. The words on the note at least appeared to be a little more in character. It was truly stunning, even more so at close range. You allowed your fingers to skim over the delicate silk fabric. It didn’t just look expensive, it felt it. The tiny, fine stiches were barely visible. You didn’t dare to imagine what it had cost.  

Painstakingly re-sealing the package, you scooped it up and carried it home, taking care to charm it as if it were a fragile piece of glass, lest it be knocked from your hands and trampled underfoot by the bustling, early evening crowd, all making their way home from work.

You had already poured over what you would wear a million times. Knowing you couldn’t afford anything new that would fit the bill, you had instead raked through what you had. The pink, taffeta ball gown you had worn for your graduation still fit you well enough, but it screamed school girl, hardly the image of a professional, young woman. You knew Lucius would sneer at its cheery girliness. Trying on anything and everything, you dismissed others as too short, too plain and too frumpy. It left you one option. Though hardly cheap, the only choice you had was a black, now slightly tired gown. That had been it. Your consolation was that at least you would co-ordinate with Malfoy, who to the best of your knowledge never wore any other colour. The image it conjured was more of a funeral party, only enhanced by the dour and unimpressed look he would have on his face. It had depressed you and amused you in equal measure, as you struggled to visualise your employer indulging in frivolity. That dull thing was long forgotten now.

As you tried the blue dress on, you squeezed your eyes shut, almost not daring to look. You were so glad when you did. It was so much more rewarding than anything else you had tried on, the perfect fit, as if it were made for you and nobody else. Letting out a long sigh, you bit your lip. Was it really so terrible to get swept away with it all in a fit of dizzy excitement? This opportunity may never come again, a once in a lifetime perhaps, surely you deserved to enjoy it.

Then Lucius came to mind, and it took a concerted effort to remind yourself this was a business engagement; it was not, under any circumstances, a date. Glancing at the time, you hurried to ready yourself, attending to your hair and make up with extra care. Wearing that dress, they seemed so upstaged now anyway. Completing the finishing touches, you took a small, but pretty, beaded clutch bag Essie had loaned you and threw on a plain shawl for your journey.

Lucius was already waiting when you arrived. He was a stickler for precise punctuality as a rule, yet he was even earlier than you. It took a moment for you to register he wasn’t dressed in black at all. Instead he wore an immaculate grey suit with a deep, Slytherin green waistcoat that almost shone underneath. His ever-perfect hair was tied neatly with a black velvet ribbon. Lucius scanned you but gave nothing away.

“I take it the dress was suitable,” he said,

Your mouth was dry. He looked delicious, even more than usual.

“Your silence suggests you are not pleased.” His voice was sharp.

“No, no its…”

His expression was accusing.

“It’s wonderful, I adore it. Thank you so much. I appreciate it, really and it is such a perfect fit. I don’t know how you did it. It’s the one I was admiring in the shop, it’s so thoughtful of you.” You tried not to babble but did anyway.

“A fortuitous accident then.” He smiled, though there was no evident warmth behind it.

You were still busy trying not to stare at him.

“It is of course, in my interests as much as yours for you to appear presentable this evening, you understand?”

There was that word again, presentable. It was the best you were going to get.

“Before we depart, I have an addition to your outfit.” Still unmoved by the whole thing, he snapped open a velvet-lined box. The contents glistened brightly.

“Is that…?”

“Indeed, it is.”

You had heard stories about some of the Malfoy heirlooms, none more so than the Dark Heart Sapphire. It was a much coveted and priceless gem. It sparkled, even in the dim lamp light, its centre was almost black, though it faded out to a more brilliant blue at the edges. The enormous stone was set in what had to be diamonds and hung on a fine, gold chain.

“The dress is yours to keep. This is merely a loan. Misplace it at your peril.”

A twirl of his finger gestured to you to turn. Shuffling round rather gracelessly, gripped by nerves and the mess of confused thoughts in your own head, you managed to comply. It was all you could muster to contain a shudder as he confidently, but gently swept your hair over your shoulder to expose the back of your neck. Though the finest of contacts, you stifled a tiny whimper at the feel of his fingertips as he nimbly closed the clasp. Lucius Malfoy snatched your breath away, as he had done so many times before, by doing so little.

“There,” he said in a soft low tone as his forefinger trailed slowly down your spine, exposed in the backless dress. As he marked out his path on your back, your body hummed and tingled at the contact and you fought the urge to let out a moan, transfixed, and unable to make any sense of what was happening. Uncertainty about the right response filled your mind. Should you turn around and slap him in the face? Should you turn around and kiss him? In the end you did neither, and were instead rooted to the spot, motionless and powerless, mesmerised by the lightest of touches. It was excruciating, the sensations on rarely touched areas of your skin were so sensitive that it bordered on painful. He stopped at the edge of the fabric, barely an inch from the top of your bottom. Pausing for a second, he traced tiny circles, before he moved away. Your body was crying out for more. A familiar throb between your legs already drummed out its demands. The tightening knot in your stomach twisted and tugged at you. Your lids had grown heavy with lust; your head spun. Relieved your back was still turned to him, you managed to mumble a ‘thank you’ as he draped your shawl back over your shoulders. There was something surreal about it all and you wondered if it was just another dream.  

“Excellent,” he announced boldly and almost cheerfully, “then we shall depart. You know I abhor lateness.” Without warning, his tone and behaviour snapped back to normal, as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.

He held the door open and waited impatiently.

“Come along,” he ordered. You could only drag your legs and try to at least project the image of demure elegance you had hoped to pull off.


	7. The Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double update!

There was a chill in the night air. Outside an ornate, covered carriage drawn by thestrals waited. You stared at the mysterious, dark creatures, their breath visible like ethereal smoke in the darkness. Some people found them disturbing: not you. No, you saw graceful and serene creatures that brought comfort as they appeared only to those who had known death. 

“You see them, then,” Lucius said with a hint of surprise.

“Yes, since I was child,” you replied.

“Then I am sorry for your loss,” he said sincerely.

The driver, who well wrapped up in black and wearing a top hat and a scarf that covered most of his face, dismounted and held the door open. Lucius directed you to take the seat opposite. It was awkward to avoid eye contact with him, if not impossible. With a thump of his cane on the roof of the carriage, and it set off, clattering over the cobbled street.

“It is a tedious journey by this manner of transportation, but other methods rather defeat the purpose of a grand entrance. By floo or apparating are far less time consuming, but so dreadfully low key. Tonight, is all about being seen, after all.” He paused to eye you suspiciously. “I do hope you are not inclined towards travel sickness or have at least taken a preparation to prevent it.”

You were huddled up, arms crossed tightly and must have looked likely to be sick, and it was a distinct possibility. Though travel had never bothered you before the swell of nervous excitement rifted in your stomach. You managed a smile; it seemed to satisfy him that you were not planning to throw up on him.   


“We will have a chance to discuss your duties this evening, though it should not take too long. I thought you might have brought a book ... to pass the time.” Lucius sucked in his cheeks, amused at himself.

Your eyes grew wide. Please, not now of all the times to bring it up.

“Oh, come now, did you think I, Lucius Malfoy, would be outraged at your reading habits? I fear you underestimate me.”

“Never.” You managed to see the funny side.

“Good, then I shall explain your task for this evening.”

It quickly became clear that the reason you had accompanied Lucius to that earlier meeting was to familiarise yourself with the faces of three businessmen. The note-taking he had asked you to do was nothing more than a distraction and reasonable excuse for your presence. You couldn’t help it: a look of disgust flashed across your face as you remembered the lecherous member of the trio. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“Yes, I recall not all conducted themselves in a becoming or gentlemanly manner. It is the other two men I am most keen you observe.”

You listened carefully, wondering if he had adjusted the task to spare you some discomfort. It didn’t sound too terrible, in fact it seemed like espionage; it almost sounded fun. You wished you’d used the listening charm you had applied for the meeting now and wondered if there was still time once you arrived.

As the carriage pulled up, butterflies flapped furiously in your stomach.

“Ah, we have arrived,” he said, climbing out first and offering you his hand to help you down. It was a sight to behold. The grand, sprawling country estate, set in acres of immaculately kept grounds, was beautiful. You imagined Malfoy Manor was not dissimilar, though this house was gloriously decorated for the festivities. Thousands of tiny white lights peppered the tree-lined drive way. A majestic fountain was lit up in gold and white and the soft sound of strings drifted out from the house. A row of liveried footmen formed a guard of honour, offering drinks and delicate canapes to the arriving guests. It was ostentatious, luxurious and magnificent. Lucius looked completely at home.

He offered you his arm and you made your way up the plush red carpet towards the entrance of the house. The interior did not disappoint. A huge crystal chandelier formed the centrepiece of a cavernous hall. Witches and wizards, all beautifully dressed, mingled, greeting friends; floating trays circulated the room, offering fresh drinks.

Each arriving guest was announced to the room. Most gained little reaction; not Lucius. It sounded strange to hear your name after his, and you noticed people break their conversations to turn and look. Eyes shot from him to you, some lingered on the sparkling gem around your neck. You knew your ears would burn tonight. Summoning all you had learnt at finishing school, you smiled and greeted people politely.

Lucius disappeared. You did your best to carry out his instructions. People you had only ever read about in the gossip columns suddenly wanted to stop and talk to you. Though you managed to get close to the two men from the meeting, you heard nothing of interest, you stood out, you had been noticed. Sneaking off to follow someone was proving to be impossible. You were becoming despondent, fearing failure. There was nothing you could do. At every turn, someone else would draw you in to conversation. At another time, you would have enjoyed such sudden popularity. Tonight, it was a nightmare.

Once again, you had the two men in your sights, both just as sombre and expressionless as they had been the first time you had seen them. Even a grand occasion such as this wasn’t enough to force a smile. There was no doubt they recognised you; there was no doubt they were intentionally giving you the slip and avoiding you. It turned out that you were a dreadful spy. Once or twice you tried to duck behind a column or blend in with a crowd, all to no avail. You could only watch as they disappeared down a corridor in the company of the none other than the wandering-handed creep who had been identified to you as Ernest Rumbold. At least you could pass that snippet on to Lucius. Before you could follow, another small group of ladies were dragging you off, wanting to know all about you and insisting you should dance.

You moved on to the ballroom; it was even grander and more extravagant. The winter theme came out in huge ice sculptures, real snow falling in an area where a Daily Prophet photographer snapped celebrity guests and a giant Christmas tree that rose almost the full height of the vaulting ceiling. A warm hand slid across your back. It was Lucius. You hadn’t seen him for above an hour.

“Do you dance?” he asked.

“Yes, I may have learnt the basics.” The thought of the such close proximity and close contact made you nervous. You swallowed and licked your lips.

Lucius offered his hand and led you onto the dance floor, taking hold, his palm flat against your back, your other hand in his. He moved gracefully, leading firmly.

“Tell me,” he whispered, “how do you find it, being in my employ?”

“I wonder how long it will last,” you said, trying to focus on the music and steps.

“How so?”

“I have no idea if I’m doing a good job or not,” you said honestly.

“You are here, are you not? Does that not give you some indicator of my assessment?”

“I fear I’m not doing a good job this evening.”

“Oh, you are doing a wonderful job, exactly as I intended,” he said with surprising conviction.

You smiled. “It wouldn’t hurt if you told me that more often.” The intention was light, the response was not.

Lucius lowered his tone and moved closer, now fully pressed against you. Your breath hitched. “Do you thrive on praise?”

“I…I don’t know,” you stumbled.

“You do seem to crave positive reinforcements and reassurances that you have been…” he paused with purpose, gazing into your eyes intently, “a very, _very_ good girl.”

His thumb brushed lightly against your back. A soft sigh escaped your lips. Those words from his mouth were already turning you to liquid, an invisible cord tugged hard from your stomach into your core. You had no idea how to answer, but he filled the silence.

“And what about when you make errors? Am I to…correct you for those? Do you require discipline?” His grip on your hand tightened. It only served to heighten the hot ache. “Is that how it should be?”

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t…” your breath was heavy now, even the music seemed distant and muffled.

“Oh, I think you do, you know perfectly well.”

Part of you ached to scream that was exactly what you wanted, the words hovered dangerously on your lips. The music ended and broke the spell.

Lucius smirked and laughed wickedly. “Well, your finishing school at least taught you to dance. Socialise as you wish. This has been an enjoyable diversion, but I am duty bound to speak with the host.”

He made his way off through the crowd but did not look back. Pressing yourself to regain composure, you made your way to a flowing cascade of bright red punch, being served in crystal cut glasses at the side of the room. You downed the drink, hoping it might still your shaking hand and dull the urgent ache in your dampened underwear.

“Hello,” said an unfamiliar male voice.

“Hello,” you said shyly.

“Would you care for some more punch?” he asked.

You probably shouldn’t, you had probably had more than enough, especially considering the bumpy carriage ride home, yet you agreed and thanked him.

“I think I know your friend.”

You looked puzzled.

“Essie, from the bookshop,” he offered chirpily.

“Oh yes, she’s a good friend of mine, a delight. I’m only sorry she couldn’t be here tonight.” Studying the man, you found him quite handsome, about your age, and he really was well-connected.

“She might have mentioned you would be here this evening.”

“Might have?”

He laughed a bit uncomfortably. “I had no idea that you and Lucius Malfoy were…”

“We’re not,” you snapped. “I’m his assistant. It’s a working occasion for me, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, I see. Well you look awfully beautiful.” His eyes focused on your collarbone. “Is that...?” He was examining the jewel suspended from your neck careful to keep his eyes at an appropriate level, you noted.

“It’s not mine to keep I’m afraid. Such a pity I think it’s the loveliest thing in the room.”

“I don’t know about that,” he smiled. Essie wasn’t totally wrong about this mystery man who came into the shop and asked about you Though her matchmaking efforts were unnecessary, you imagined you could do a lot worse. He was certainly charming and easy to like. It was a shame your mind was diverted elsewhere. Glad of the distraction from your earlier conversation with Lucius on the dance floor, you knew Essie would at least be pleased you had finally met the mystery suitor. You still knew nothing about him. “By the way, I didn’t catch your name.”

Before you could get an answer, a familiar hiss filled your ear. “Your attention is required,” Lucius scowled, ushering you away, giving you only time to shrug and barely the opportunity to raise your hand to wave goodbye.

He steered you outside, his fingers gripping your waist. Expecting him to have some client he wanted you to quiz or distract, his reasons surprised you.

“We should watch the fireworks, before we must depart,” he said.

The night air was freezing, and your shawl had not been summoned from the cloak room. Your shivers did not go unnoticed. Without a word, Lucius removed his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. You opened your mouth to speak but he shushed you and before you could utter a word the display had started. It was a dazzling light show, firecrackers formed into multi-coloured dragons, and the crowd oohed and ahhed with every whizz and bang. The highlight was a glittering Christmas tree that exploded into a flurry of real snow. Try as you might to remain focused on the show in the sky above, you caught yourself glancing his way more than once, observing his strong profile, wilfully chewing at your lip. As the last flakes fell, the evening drew to a close. Sighing, you were just as confused as ever.

The ride home was relatively quiet. You were exhausted, and it was all you could do to keep your head up. The nightmarish vision of nodding off to sleep, awoken by an irritated Lucius complaining you had drooled on his shoulder and snored was enough to keep you conscious. This time he had insisted you sit beside him.

“The young man you were speaking with this evening?” It was an inquiry, an unsubtle one at that.

“Which one?” you replied, “I spoke to a great many people tonight.”

“Yes, quite the belle of the ball.” His smile appeared and disappeared in an instant. “The boy at the punch. I should avoid him if I were you. Not from the best sort of family.” He hushed his voice to a whisper, “Mud blood.”

“Does it matter so very much?” Alcohol made you bold it would seem.

“I merely think of your reputation, of your father’s reputation, of _my_ reputation in public. Private matters are of no consequence to me.”

“He’s a friend of a friend, I’ve never met him before. Don’t even know his name. Not that it is really any of your concern.” You sounded rather outraged. After all you were an employee and he had given you permission to socialise as you wished. It seemed unreasonable to dictate who you could speak to on your own time.

There was uneasy silence.

“You did rather well tonight,” he said.

Pleased you could turn your head towards the window to hide your smile, you were surprised he was satisfied with your efforts. You tried not to think about his insinuation you sought praise.

“Really? I thought I did terribly. I heard very little, though I am certain you shouldn’t place your trust in those two men. It was awfully difficult to go anywhere without being stopped.”

“Exactly, my dear,” he grinned. “While everyone was busy chasing the rabbit, the clever fox was left to wander freely. You were a stunning diversion. I heard all I needed to and more.” Lucius was seemed pleased with himself.

The carriage drew up outside your apartment.

“Your lodgings,” he said, insisting on seeing you right to the door. “At this late hour it would be ungentlemanly of me not to make certain you are returned safely. Who knows what predators may lurk in darkened alleys.” Suspecting there were none more dangerous than the one in front of you, you said nothing.

“This is me,” you said at the doorway, the light from within falling on his face.

“I shall thank you, for a lovely evening.” He took your hand and raised it to his lips. Very slowly and deliberately he kissed it, first with a brush of his lips. Instead of letting it go, he held on to it. He watched you as the soft flicker of his tongue over your knuckles stole your breath.

“Goodnight,” he said seductively, His eyes sparkled as he stared intently into yours, your hand still hanging limply in his. Your knees were weak.

You swallowed hard, instinctively raising a hand to your neck, aware of what still hung there. Perhaps he would come in to collect the necklace, perhaps he would come in and…Your imagination was starting to run wild.

 “Don’t worry about that, you may return it tomorrow. Sleep well, rabbit.”

He slipped away, back into the darkness.

“Goodnight,” you sighed after him, but the sound of thestral hooves told you he had already departed.


	8. Noisy thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's here, smut is here and long may it continue!!!
> 
> Sorry Jason, as always, sorry (but not actually that sorry!)

You awoke the next morning with a sore head and after what felt like nothing more than a few minutes of sleep. Why they couldn’t hold these things at the weekend was beyond you, though it was probably less of an issue to the rich and famous than mere assistants such as yourself who would still have to live by the clock. Downing a popular and trusted hangover cure and wake up potion, you readied yourself for work. Today was a come down. Last night had been intriguing.

The morning was slow. Lucius arrived much later than usual. You smiled warmly as he entered.

“Good morning, Sir,” you said cheerily, unable to hide your delight at his presence from showing on your face. His reaction was frosty.

“You have something to return, I believe,” he said coldly.

“Yes of course, it’s back in its box, all in one piece, you can trust that no exchanges for a fake have taken place,” you laughed.

He gave the gem a cursory inspection and then snapped the box shut again, tucking it into his pocket.

“I will be returning it to Gringotts, and I have some other matters to attend to.”

It was as if last night didn’t happen. As if he hadn’t danced with you and whispered thinly veiled obscenities into your ear, as if he hadn’t given you his jacket to keep you warm or left a lingering kiss on your hand that you could still feel now if you thought hard enough about it. Switching back into work mode, you got on with your tasks until lunch and headed out to meet Essie, for the promised and much anticipated dissection of yesterday evening.

“Tell, tell all, leave no detail undisclosed,” she squealed.

“It was wonderful, really.”

She knew you too well. “You could sound a bit more enthusiastic. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, sorry, I’m exhausted, it was a late night.”

Essie studied your face and accepted your reasons, though she didn’t seem entirely convinced. Pulling out the latest copy of The Daily Prophet images from last night were splashed across a four-page spread.

“Argh, look you’re in, you made it in. That’s you. What are you wearing? What happened to the black? That looks expensive, lovely but expensive.”

“Lucius gave it to me,” you were embarrassed. “To wear for the ball, to look the part.”

“And Gods above, what is _that_ round your neck? Is that…?”

“Just a loan. I don’t get to keep it.”

“What’s wrong with Malfoy? I mean he’s being uncharacteristically nice. What does he want?”

You wished you knew.

Thankfully a welcome distraction came.

“There, in the background, that’s the boy who comes in the shop, that’s him! He never said he was going. I think he must be better-connected than I first thought.” she squealed.

“I met him, actually.”

Her eyebrows shot up and she pulled her most manically excited face. “And? And?”

“He seemed…nice.”

“Nice, blimey don’t go overboard. It’s up there with harmless.”

“It was brief, I didn’t even get his name.”

“Did you dance? Please say you danced.”

“I did dance.”

“With him? Can I buy my hat yet? Please just say yes and be done with it.”

Essie was growing more excitable by the second.

“No, I wasn’t asked and really didn’t have the time anyway.” You were trying your best to skirt around it, but Essie’s next question was inevitable.

“Then who? Anyone juicy?”

“Only Lucius,” you said focusing firmly on your drink.

“Ew. How disappointing, but it’s Lucius now. You and Malfoy do look rather cosy in that picture, you know. Almost intimate.”

Though you knew she didn’t mean that, but it made you feel uneasy and wonder if other people had seen it like that too. The boy Essie was so keen to marry you off to had clearly believed it.

Time was up. You said your goodbyes and promised to pour over every detail at the weekend. Perhaps not every detail, you thought to yourself.

Back at the office your fuzzy head had cleared, only to find yourself draped in another fog. Lucius made no sense to you. Pleasant, warm even, but only for a second and then back to a sheet of ice without any notice or warning. As you left a neat pile of finished paperwork on his desk, you couldn’t help but think about what he had said as you danced. The way the words ‘good girl’ sounded coming from his mouth, the way he hinted at correcting you. Sighing, the images from your book filled your head. Lucius’ fingers raking into your hair, tugging hard at it, kissing you roughly, then spanking you. Fuck, the idea could drive you wild. Lucius Malfoy was driving you wild.

“I heard that,” came Lucius’ booming voice from behind you.

You were frozen and gulped hard. You hadn’t even heard him come back in and you were quite certain you had said nothing aloud.

“I didn’t say anything,” you offered hopefully.

“You didn’t have to. If you will insist on projecting your thoughts so vocally, there is little I can do. I try not to pry.”

Now your cheeks were burning. A few seconds later and you would have been back in the safety of your own office, behind a door and even if he could read your thoughts, you at would have been spared the eye contact and proximity. Ignorance would have been bliss compared to this. You were caught in the middle of the room, in no man’s land with no immediate refuge, you had no choice but to look at him.

“Is that what you desire?” he asked in a low tone.

Your heart pounded. How did you answer that? The exit was blocked, there was no easy way to run and hide, short of barging past him. Instead your only means of manoeuvre was backward and you found yourself edging slowly towards his desk. He advanced a step. Eyes wide, you still had no answer, but inched further back until you hit the hard edge of the furniture behind you. Though grateful for its support to keep you on your feet, it also meant you had nowhere else to go. Lucius stepped forwards again. He was now in your personal space, his eyes alive and sparkling with intent, as they bored deep into yours. Much as it would have been a relief to look away, he held your gaze; you simply couldn’t. You let out a soft gasp as he completely closed the gap between you and his body pressed firmly against yours. Brushing away a loose strand of hair, he stroked your cheek softly.

“Is _this_ what you desire?” he said as he pushed harder against you. “I think it is.”

You were barely able to sigh as he grazed his finger over your lips, but you were unable to fight the urge to take it into your mouth and suck gently, running your tongue over the soft pad. Panting softly, your head swam with now untamed lust as he withdrew it.

“How awfully needy of you,” he rasped as he traced a line over your chin, down your neck, between your breasts and over your stomach, before settling just below the line of your underwear.

“Tell me, does it ache _here_?”

“Yes,” you gasped.

“Does it ache badly, my skittish little rabbit?”

Lucius was nodding, willing you to agree. You could only mirror it.

“Yes, yes, I know,” he soothed. “But tell me, what does it ache for?”

“You.”

He smiled wickedly, baring his teeth.

“Then perhaps,” he whispered leaning in close.

“You,” he said, and his lips brushed over yours.

“Shall.” You sighed, your lips parting and begging for more.

“Have.” His tongue slid teasingly into your mouth for a second.

“Your way.”

Lucius’ hands knotted into your hair and he tilted your head and kissed you deeply and passionately. His tongue greedily and aggressively claimed your mouth and you melted into his body. It lasted for no more than a few seconds before he cruelly snatched it away.

“Now, Rabbit, you must earn reward. Do we understand each other?”

“I think so,” you mumbled.

“You must…prove your devotion,” his eyes flickered with excitement. “You must be mastered before you can be conquered. Can you submit, Rabbit? Do you wish to?”

Closing your eyes, you felt like your head might explode. Rational thought, logic and reason were all lost in the constant thumping ache in your cunt that forced a weak ‘yes’ from your lips.

“What’s that, my dear?”

“Yes,” you pushed out, this time with conviction.

Lucius shook his head with a disappointed look on his face.

“Now you must learn the rules and you have much to learn. Yes, what?”

“Yes, Sir,” you ventured.

He shook his head again and tutted. “These are not workplace pleasantries, before you are conquered, what must you be?”

“I must be mastered.”

“Good girl, you are listening. Now, let’s try again. Yes, what?” His tone was insistent and firm.

Perhaps you should have felt shame at the answer you were about to give and that it was only deepening your hot ache. Your breath was so shallow you felt as if you might faint and you clung on to the desk.

“Yes, Master.”

“Better, much, much better. Now hitch up your skirt and bend over the desk.” It was a sharp command, almost matter-of-fact. You could only stare, open mouthed.

“Come along, what did you expect for such insolence?”

With heavy limbs and vision that was beginning to blur, you found yourself complying, slowly drawing up your tight skirt and doing your best to maintain some air of seductiveness and dignity, given the situation.

“Turn around, quickly,” he huffed impatiently.

You obeyed immediately. Lucius dragged your skirt the rest of the way so roughly you heard the crunch of the straining seams. Pushing you down hard, you were thankful he had positioned his other arm in a such a way it prevented you from slamming face-first into the leather-topped surface of the desk.

“Rest on your elbows,” he instructed.

There was a moment’s pause. The only sound was your own scratchy and ragged breath. The flat of his hand smoothed over your arse stroking the glossy, black satin of your panties, before he slipped his hand between your legs. You let out a whimper and bit your lip, as if you knew instinctively you shouldn’t have.

“Oh, so damp, so very wet already. How excited you are, Rabbit”

The need to writhe against his hand which still rested lightly between your legs overcame you, but Lucius instantly snatched it away.

“No, no, no. There are lessons to be learnt. So many lessons.” With his last word he yanked your underwear down to your ankles.

Half-naked and exposed, with your bottom in the air you felt humiliation, but you liked it, willed it, wanted it. You were too aroused to even remember what indignant felt like. Featherlight fingertips skimmed over your bare arse.

“Your first lesson is to address your master correctly at all times.” A hard smack came down on your cheeks. You let out a half-stifled cry.

Lucius sighed. “Your second lesson,” he said, followed by a succession of short sharp slaps, as he beat out his words. “Don’t. Make. Noise. Unless. Told. You. May. Do. So.”

Panting hard, the hot sting left behind competed with the relentless twitch in your pussy. You knew you were dripping wet and battling the compulsion to grind against the desk to try and sate some of your need.

“Now what have you learnt?” he demanded.

“To always address my master correctly.”

“And?” he said as yet another unexpected whack came down.

“To only make noise when told I may do so.”

“Good girl,” he said and slipped his fingers between the soaked folds of your desperate cunt. An unstoppable moan escaped you.

Smack. Then another you thought came from the other hand.

“You’re not learning.”

The hardest yet shook through your body. It burned, yet it was delicious.

“Next, lesson: you shall apologise after any instance of disobedience.”

“I’m sorry…” you sensed his hand hovering behind you. “Master.”

Slap. You squirmed from the pain and could feel the prickling of tears. You could easily sob; you held it in.

“There will be five more.”

He administered them rather evenly and you counted silently. By the fourth tears rolled down your cheeks.

“This is the last. You have done so very, very well.”

You tensed and dropped your head, biting your wrist. Crack. The final stroke was even harder than any that had come before. Sore and tearful you should be disgusted, instead the urgency between your now sticky thighs had only intensified. If you had felt want before, it was now a ferocious hunger. Punishment, praise, it excited you like nothing you had imagined. Breathless and shaking, Lucius helped you up.

“There,” he said, “come now.”

You clung on to him, partly to steady yourself as yours legs were jelly. He drew out a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed away your tears, shushing you and gently stroking your cheek. Lucius took your hand and raised it to his lips, his eyes fixed on yours.

“There now, Rabbit, you did awfully well for the first time, and how you look so shocked and more than a little confused.”

He brushed away a remaining tear with his thumb. The ache in you was powerful enough to drive you to move towards him, and he allowed you to kiss him for a moment before stepping away, your face crumpling at the rejection.

“Yes, I know, all that will come in good time. I must go, and you are to attend to yourself this evening. It is for your own good, in order for you to understand it better, and be certain of what it is you want.”

Standing with your skirt still bunched around your waist, your hand instinctively slid towards your cunt; your eyes pleaded with him to stay. You were ready to beg.

“ _That_ will also come and I look forward to it _very_ much, but for now let it be yours and yours alone. Take what you feel now and use it. Lose yourself completely in it and if it is still what you desire, then tell me tomorrow.”

With that he departed, stopping at the door only to blow you a kiss and bid you an unbelievably casual goodnight.

Scrambling to collect yourself, you virtually fell out of the door, barely able to mutter the charms required to seal the door against intruders. With both sets of cheeks burning you ran home as fast as your legs could carry you until you could finally slam the door behind you and take sanctuary in the safety of your own rooms. The wanton ache between your legs had barely subsided and it was only reignited each time the stinging sensation spiked through you from your freshly spanked arse. Part of you wished you could forget the whole thing, not because you wanted to, but because that was how you _should_ feel. Every fibre of your being should be horrified at the way he had spoken to you, struck you, caused you physical pain and discomfort. It had quite the opposite effect; it burned white-hot inside you and made you want to cry out for more. The door had barely clicked shut before you had dropped your bag onto the floor and you had automatically reached into your soaked underwear to attempt to satisfy your need. Letting out a deep moan, as you worked two fingers into your tight cunt, you thought you would burst. This time you weren’t chanting Lucius’ name under your breath, but his new title.

It felt like stealing. Already you had absorbed the idea that your pleasure, as well as your pain, should belong to Lucius and Lucius alone. You were more than ready to submit. You wanted him now, though the vigorous rhythm of your own fingers brought relief, it was him you burned for. Nothing else mattered but the desperate desire for him to punish you and reward you, for his fingers, his tongue and his cock. Your walls clenched around your fingers as you came with a hard, gushing orgasm. You stood panting with your back pressed against the door for a moment.

Unable to help yourself, you freed yourself from your skirt and summoned a mirror to show you the rear view. Though they were beginning to fade, red palm prints were still unmistakable. Sighing deeply, another wave of excitement started to build as you ran you fingers over each mark, lightly at first and then increasingly firmly so you might relive the sensations it had brought you. Disbelief followed, as you could hardly reconcile how you would be so ready and in need again so quickly. You couldn’t help but imagine what other delicious things tomorrow might bring.

 


	9. A Mutually Beneficial Agreement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all of the kind words, comments and kudos. Another smutty one (in an extensive and growing line-up of smutty ones). 
> 
> Thanks for reading. Comments welcome.  
> A few interesting suggestions have been made and I will try and use some of them. A couple of very good ideas don't quite fit with this, so I may throw a few spicy one-shots out there. 
> 
> Traditional apology to the most delicious muse a writer could have. 
> 
> Feel free to engage in my nonsense on Twitter @Vintage1983V and introduce yourself to 'The Basement' :)

Though you had been wide awake since long before dawn, you decided to arrive at work precisely on time. Too early would seem over-eager, not that you weren’t dying to see him. It would be awkward. You had no idea if you should broach the subject or wait patiently for him to say something. The horrific thought that nothing at all would be said about the previous day crossed your mind, that it would be ignored or forgotten, nothing more than a source of embarrassment and regret.

Lucius breezed in, throwing his cloak on the stand, propping his cane in its usual place and taking a seat at his desk. He barely even appeared to register your presence. You stood inelegantly, trying not to rock on your heels, anticipating some sort of reaction.

“I shall take tea now, as always,” he barked.

You swallowed in disappointment; it was business as usual. Head down, you turned towards the door to your part of the office.

“Would you care to join me?”

Lucius had never invited you to take tea with him in the morning.

Returning nervously with two cups, you took a seat opposite him at his desk, just as you had in your interview. Though you made pleasantries at first, it felt like you were being assessed for a very different role.

“Did you have an opportunity to…consider your wishes, last night?” Lucius said, raising an eyebrow over his tea cup. He spoke as if it were nothing, a trivial matter.

“Yes, yes I did.”

You were already blushing at the thought of it, your gaze shot to the desk, your mind took you instantly back to the memory of bringing yourself to orgasm time after time fuelled by the still warm imprint of his hand across your arse.

“And? Is it still what you desire?”

“Very much.”

Tension rose. It stole the air in the room and you felt your breath shorten. Trying not to shuffle and fidget was impossible. You knew how much it irritated him, yet Lucius still appeared unmoved.

“Then we should discuss our terms.”

You nodded. It sounded serious and formal, like he was conducting a business transaction.

“Understand, this is not a romance. It is a mutually beneficial arrangement. However, it should also be a mutually pleasurable arrangement. I expect you to submit, fully and without hesitation. You will, of course, be able to identify certain boundaries, your tolerances, if you like. Do you know what your limits are?”

“I…I don’t. I have no idea.”

You didn’t. Until a short time ago you didn’t even imagine any of this entire scenario would appeal to you in the slightest.

“No, I am sure you don’t,” he said gently, but with an almost patronising tone. “Our first task is to find the absolute hard threshold of what you can withstand and the _softer_ , less rigid edges of what you may be led to endure at my command.”

Lucius smiled wickedly.

“Alright,” you said in a hushed tone. You were excited and afraid.

He sighed.

“Oh Rabbit, you must trust your Master implicitly. You shall elect a word. Something removed, inconsequential, something you wouldn’t have cause to use in such a situation as you will find yourself in. There is no need to utter it.” He smirked. “You may be unable to speak at the time. Simply consent for me to always hear it, think of it and I shall know you can take no more.”

“Bluebird.”

“And I shall always hear it?”

“You shall always hear it.”

“Excellent. Though it is perhaps not ideal, I trust you are content to remain in my employ?”

You nodded in agreement.

“Are you satisfied that… _liaisons_ may take place here, but are absolutely separate from your paid work?”

“Yes.”

Lucius glanced around the room. You followed his eyeline, noting that the furniture in the office had changed. One of the large chairs by the fireside had been replaced by a black, leather chaise long. Imagining it had been placed there because it had a purpose it seemed Lucius expected nothing less than your agreement to his terms and a desire to continue.

“Within normal working boundaries you shall continue to address me as Sir. Should I address you as Rabbit, you will use Master.”

“Yes, Master.”

It appeared he approved.

“One final thing. This is a private arrangement and I mean private. The very nature of it is not to be divulged to another living soul. Indiscretion will bring it to an abrupt and unpleasant end. Do I make myself clear?”

He was stern and deadly serious.

“Perfectly,”

“Now.” His expression curled into smug satisfaction. “I wish to know all about your evening.”

“What would you like me to tell you?” you whispered back.

“Oh no, Rabbit. I don’t wish you to tell me. I demand that you show me. Undress and lie down.”

Lucius looked at the chaise again, then charmed the door locked. You rose slowly to your feet and unzipped your skirt, allowing it to fall to the floor. Undoing your blouse, he watched every movement intently. Standing in your only your underwear, you suddenly felt self-conscious. You gingerly reached back to undo the hooks on your bra.

“Good girl, go on.”

You complied and slid each strap down, fighting the need to fold your arms across your chest and hide yourself.

“Show me,” he commanded.

He was now on his feet, directing you to lie down. You wriggled out of your panties, keeping your knees together as your embarrassment fought with the hot ache that had been building between your thighs.

“Show me how wicked you have been, I wish to see what you did.”

Your hand slid downwards. Lucius forced your legs apart. You were bare and exposed.

“Look at me,” he said firmly.

Your eyes met his.

“Now show me.”

You found your cunt aching, warm and wet as you slid your fingers between your folds, stroking your throbbing clit. Shyness dissolved, as Lucius sat back in the chair opposite and watched you, his eyes burning with lust and his tongue occasionally tracing over his lip. Now you wanted to put on a show and pushed yourself further, sliding one, then two fingers inside yourself. A stifled grunt of approval spurred you on to press a third finger inside and work them in and out.

“Oh my, such a wanton slut you are. Unable to contain your excitement. Did you think about your spanking, Rabbit?”

“Yes.”

“Did you think long and hard about it? Did it excite you, make you wet?”

“Yes.”

“Are you all wet for your Master now?”

“Yes, oh yes.”

You didn’t know how long you could hang on or how much you could take. He glanced from your burning and glossy eyes down to your pussy.

“Did you come, Rabbit? Did you come hard?”

There was a trace of excitement in his voice. He gave so little away, you cherished it.

“Yes, yes Master, so hard.”

You were panting, barely able to speak.

“Then I must teach you another lesson.”

Lucius was leaning over you, brushing his lips over yours as you still pumped your fingers into your pussy and greedily demanded more of his mouth.

“Ah, ah, ah. You are not to come without your Master’s permission. You must _always_ ask first.”

He grabbed your wrist and snatched your hand away.

“Turn over, on your hands and knees. You are to be punished.”

The chaise was wide enough for you to position yourself comfortably as Lucius bound you at the wrists and ankles. You tugged at the soft ropes that now constricted your movement and fixed you in position. Just able to see over your shoulder, you watched as Lucius produced a flat, black leather paddle from the drawer of his desk. Your breath hitched, and your cunt ached from the lack of attention.

“Now, you will take your punishment and remember the rules.”

He spanked you hard. It was far more relentless than the last time. Each loud crack sent a shock through your body, the fierce sting only served to fuel the desperate ache in your cunt. You could feel pure lust pooling between your legs, dripping down onto your thighs and were sure you could hear Lucius’ breath grow ragged and short. The need to push your legs together was overwhelming, but your bindings would not allow it. Biting down hard on your lip was the only way you could contain the yelps and whimpers that tried time and again to force their way out. You remembered the rules. The rules were burnt into your mind, you had thought about little else since yesterday. Another hard smack came, and the sound reverberated around the room.

“There now, what a good girl, not a sound or a whimper. You have done so very well.”

Lucius gently untidied your wrists.

“You should be grateful for your correction,” he whispered into your ear.

“Thank you, Master,” you rasped in reply.

“Excellent, now you may finish what you started.”

You let out a growl of frustration.

“Oh, why whatever is wrong, Rabbit? Is that not what you want? Tell me what it is you do want?”

“I want you to touch me, I want you. Please. Please Master.”

You were almost sobbing in desperation. You ached for him, could think of nothing else.

“Oh, my precious little thing,” he laughed wickedly. “Begging already, how thoroughly delicious. Do go on.”

You looked at him wide-eyed and uncertain.

“Beg.”

“Please,” you whined.

“Please, what?” he said raking his fingers into your hair and tugging your head back, forcing you to look up at him.

“Please, master.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to touch me, I need…I want, please.”

You struggled for words, your eyes were pleading as much as your words. Lucius looked at you expectantly.

“Please make me come.”

“And your pleasure will belong to me, and me alone?”

“Yes, it’s yours, it’s all yours. Take it, please.”

He finally relented and smirked. You felt his hand run lightly down your back, over the curve of your arse and up your inner thigh. Your legs tensed in anticipation. He made you wait. Then, as you stifled a hoarse cry his elegant fingers traced over your dripping cunt.

“Oh, how wet you are, Rabbit. So desperate. Is this what you crave?” he said as he slid two fingers inside you. Barely able to breathe you somehow managed to have enough voice and presence of mind to thank him as he worked a slow and torturous rhythm in and out. Fighting the sudden instinct to buck against his hand you gripped the sides of the chaise and closed your eyes.

“ _Fuck,”_ you muttered under your breath.

“My what a filthy mouth you have. Let me hear more. I want to hear you.”

Lucius pushed his fingers deep inside you, curling and twisting them, extracting sounds and feelings you couldn’t have contained if he’d insisted on it. You mewled and panted, giving in to the urge to rock against him. You gasped as he withdrew his fingers and instead brushed and stroked at the sensitive bud of nerves that pushed you close. Responding in nothing but wordless murmurs and squeals, you yelped as he once more pulled hard at your hair.

“Is this what you wanted, Rabbit?”

“Yes, fuck yes, please. I need…”

“What do you need?”

“I need to come. Please let me come.”

He was rough now, vigorously fucking you with his fingers, still yanking at your hair with his other hand until you were coming undone, your cries were sharper and uncontrolled, your walls tightening and clenching with each thrust. You held the note of your last moan as ecstasy ripped through your body and stole the air from your lungs. You floated back down slowly, your cunt still twitching and pulsing, holding his fingers inside you. Eventually your breathing returned to a regular pace and Lucius moved away; you instantly felt bereft. You heard him uttering an unfamiliar spell.

“Touch yourself,” he demanded.

You slowly complied, only to be met with a crackle and an electrical shock. Snatching your hand away, you stared at him in disbelief.

“Try again.”

The same result.

“Now your pleasure belongs to me, your cunt belongs to me, and you will come, or not, depending on my whim. It will be as and when I allow it. You should be careful what you wish for, dear little Rabbit.”

Staring open mouthed, you had no answer.

“Come now,” he said softly, “lie a moment and recover yourself.”

He carefully untied your ankles and you lay on your back. Lucius hovered over you, leaning down to kiss you, softly and deeply.

“Good girl.”

You moaned and searched for more but were denied. Lucius returned from a cabinet at the side of the room carrying a small bottle. He took each wrist in turn, kissing the red bands that the bindings had left behind and applying the potion. He did the same at your ankles.

“Turn,” he said tapping at your shoulder and you rolled onto your front as he wished.

This time he rubbed the healing lotion into the sore and rosy cheeks of your arse. You sighed deeply. Broad, massaging strokes down your back and delicately smoothing your hair were equally unexpected and despite your excitement when he finally stopped, you were so relaxed you could have fallen asleep.

“All better now, Rabbit. Tempting as you are, I think that is quite enough for today. You must dress yourself and business must go on as usual.”

He brushed your hair away and kissed the back of your neck and along your shoulder, making the faintest of contacts with his tongue and teeth.

Resigned to the fact you would now have to return to normality and go about your day as if nothing had happened, you sighed again.

“Be patient. Good things come to good girls who wait.”

______________

 

Lucius was out of the office for much of the day. It made it slightly easier to concentrate on your mundane duties. You were still distracted. His return late in the day was less awkward than you imagined and somehow you managed to slip back into your established routine until the clock stuck five.

“Goodnight, Sir,” you smirked. “I will see you tomorrow.”

It was almost a question, a loaded one at that.

“Yes, yes you will indeed. I should like it if you could arrive tomorrow in stockings. I am rather fond of them. Can you fulfil such a request?”

“Of course.”

“And perhaps…without underwear.”

“Not a problem, Sir. Will that be all?”

You were grinning wickedly.

“I think so.”

You turned to leave.

“One more thing.”

You looked back over your shoulder.

“I expect your cunt will be aching all night. Burning up and crying insistently for attention.”

Your breath hitched.

“It will of course go unsatisfied, you poor thing, how very lustful you will be feeling by tomorrow. Sleep well, my dear”

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Out to Lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the wonderful support, it means the world!
> 
> Comments and thoughts always welcome, don't be shy, I'm not!  
> Enjoy!

It was a long night. You ached. Even that damn book seemed to be taunting you from the bedside table, daring you to look, challenging you to tolerate more and threatening to conjure images that would only fuel your desperation. The vivid memory of Lucius’ fingers working inside you was no comfort at all; it only made you long for more. You wondered if you had begged him, would he have fucked you? You wanted it so badly. Deep down you recognised if he had wanted to, it would have happened because he was completely in control of the situation. Lucius didn’t seem the type to deny himself what he wanted, yet he had never invited you to touch him. Trying everything to push it from your mind, it was still proving to be impossible; the thoughts of him, his mouth, his tongue and more, so much more you didn’t feel you simply wanted anymore but were now sure you needed. Though every strike of the paddle had been painful, it had never once occurred to you to think of your safe word, ‘bluebird’ had never crossed your mind, not even for a second. That made you wonder how far you could push yourself and where those limits he had mention may lie.

The hunger was rising within you. There was nothing you could do other than squeeze your legs together tightly to try and dull the acute ache. Perhaps you should feel anger at your enforced frustration; instead, it aroused you more. Your satisfaction now lay solely in the hands of your master. If this was full and willing submission, then you thirsted for more. Still, you squirmed uncomfortably against the sheets. A sleeping potion tempted you; it felt like cheating. You would suffer through the night as he had intended.

 

___________

 

Lucius poured himself a fine cognac he generally indulged in only on very special occasions. He decided this evening was worthy of a celebratory drink; he was rather pleased with himself. She was all he had hoped for and could be so much more. He allowed himself to relive the glorious sight of her bound and naked. There was much work to be done, she was far from the finished article, but the pleasure of training her was satisfaction in itself. He had intentionally struck her harder; a test passed with flying colours and now he pondered just how far her taste for submissiveness might go. There wasn’t a word of complaint as he had denied her the right to touch herself at will, not a single utterance of protest, no demand for it to be undone. It wasn’t something he would normally have done so soon, yet she seemed so ready, oh so very ripe and ready. He could have fucked her there and then. The delicious view of her, legs spread, her own slender fingers pressed into her willing cunt. Lucius had been hard just watching her, he was just as hard now remembering it. Perhaps he should have fucked her while she was so delightfully restrained. The thought of her shaking and mewling, coming over his cock was enough. He liked the wait, the expectation, it was worthwhile, but he had denied himself enough for one day and he stroked his cock, imagining his new pet squirming in her bed, impatient for his attentions.

 

___________

You followed Lucius’ instructions meticulously, rolling up lace-topped stockings and securing them in place. Applying a shock of red lipstick and a streak of eyeliner, you at least felt a little more dressed. Eyeing your underwear drawer, it crossed your mind that you could wear some knickers, at least for the journey to work and remove them later. Awful visions of being knocked clumsily to the ground by some burly wizard and exposing yourself to a street full of Ministry commuters flashed through your mind. Deciding it was another form of cheating, you did without. Still, there was the journey home to contend with and you weakened and shoved some into your handbag for emergencies.

Though you took the first footsteps outside gingerly, by the time you approached the smart office building that housed your place of work, a devilish grin threatened to break out. It was surprisingly empowering. The rush of cold air had been a shock initially, you at least had tried to convince yourself it was doing something to ease the dull throb between your legs that had never really subsided since yesterday. It wasn’t helping at all. Instead the lacy stockings and bareness underneath your skirt only served to excite you. As your journey continued the thrill of your filthy secret had put an additional spring in your step.

It was after ten when Lucius arrived. He often went to early morning meetings, but you were never informed of their time, location or purpose. This morning he had a look of smug satisfaction but made no allusions to your personal arrangement or state of undress.

“Tea,” he said, clapping his hands.

Once over that would have made you silently curse him. It made you smirk now. You brought it and placed his cup down on the desk, aware you were being watched. You waited.

“Can I help you, girl? Are you lost or confused? Do you have no work to be getting on with?”

“Certainly, Sir,” you replied formally. You had no idea how he would react to anything and started to scurry back to your place of safety. Perhaps he was in no mood for games after all.

“I trust you managed to follow all of my instructions.”

He had an awful habit of stopping you in your tracks.

“Yes, of course,” you smiled.

“Show me. No need to turn around.”

You hitched up your skirt, chewing wickedly at your lip, filled with an overriding sense of power and control as you revealed yourself to him.

“Very good,” he said nonchalantly as ever.

Unable to resist, you peeked over your shoulder. Lucius was already buried in the papers on his desk. He glanced up and shooed you away silently with the wave of his hand.

Owls piled in all morning and you were relieved to be busy. The omnipresent hum of need coupled with increasing dampness persisted. You drifted in and out of work and fantasy, until both were disturbed. Lucius appeared in the doorway.

“You shall accompany me to lunch… _Rabbit_.”

“Yes, Master,” you chirped, swept up in the excitement as you pulled on your cloak with haste. Then it suddenly dawned on you that this was a very public place. How could this possibly work? You swallowed hard and clattered after Lucius, who had already left the offices without a moment’s pause.

 

It was busy. Christmas was rapidly approaching; the streets were lined with out-of-town daytrippers and harassed office workers trying to squeeze gift shopping into their lunch breaks. The restaurant was the same as last time, but was now covered in bright, festive decorations. It had a jolly atmosphere and the room was noisy and filled with laughter and merriment. Only Lucius was frowning.

“Tourists,” he cursed as he pushed through the cheery crowd and politely pulled out your seat at a narrow table in the corner. It quickly became evident why he had chosen it, as your knees almost brushed against his beneath it. The owner fussed and bowed, as he had the last time.

You looked at him over your menu. He understood your question.

“Eat as you like, it is of no consequence to me.”

It appeared all very normal at first. He made small talk, ate his steak and drank his wine like there was nothing of any great importance or interest on his mind, until, without provocation or warning his feet tapped at yours subtly bidding your knees to part. You complied, stiffening suddenly in your seat.

Lucius carried on speaking as though nothing was happening. You almost choked on your food as from nowhere his fingers traced the fine lace band around your thigh and found the bare flesh above it. He leant forward and starred at you intently. His fingers found the damp heat of your cunt and it was all you could do not to cry out. He smiled at you wickedly as he teased at your opening. You sighed and leaned back into the chair, pressing your weight down into the seat as if it would somehow hold you together. As he slid an exploratory finger inside you, you dropped the fork in your hand that was already shaking so badly with a loud clatter. He snorted. Suddenly, the owner appeared, showering Lucius in insincere but necessary platitudes.

“Delicious,” Lucius said sucking his finger in an exaggerated manner. “In fact, we may have dessert. My companion simply cannot wait to be indulged.”

You couldn’t look at the oblivious restaurateur, or at Lucius and starred as blankly as you could at your wine glass, sucking in your cheeks. It was just you and him once more.

He began talking again like nothing had happened, you were flushed and breathless, but tried to follow suit.

“I expect you will spend the festive break at your parents’. A charming, if somewhat small estate I can say I have had the pleasure of visiting, many years ago.”

A backhanded compliment, as usual.

“Yes, I’m looking forward to it. Mother always makes the house look lovely at this time of year, she has always had an eye for that sort of thing and adores the season.”

None of it was a lie, but truthfully you had already imagined that you would spend endless amounts of time thinking about Lucius and willing time to pass so you could return to work.

“I find this time of year a nuisance. Business shuts down and I am surrounded by dreadful tackiness and gaudy displays that offend my eyes.” He glanced at the flashing lights and sparkly decorations with distaste, pausing to grimace at a wizard bounding in wearing a green elf hat.

“And you? Will you spend it at the Manor?”

“I imagine so,” he said, guarded and coldly.

“And Draco, will he come for Christmas?”

Lucius stiffened and scowled.

“What do you imagine gives you the right to pry into my personal affairs? Over-familiarity is unacceptable”

It was controlled anger. It frightened you.

“I’m sorry.”

You thought there was a slight softening in his features. He said nothing, then you felt a sharp pinch at the top of your thigh and winced.

“Incorrect.”

You were open mouthed.

“Now, Rabbit, apologise properly.” He pinched again, nipping the soft flesh between his finger and thumb and twisting. It was painful but sent a shock of delicious electricity straight to your core. Your breath hitched.

“Sorry….” You looked around nervously and whispered, “ _Master_.”

Shocked that he would even suggest such a thing, here, in public in front of others, you had no idea how to react. The instinctive and base drive between your legs waged war with the rational thoughts in your head.

“What was that. I didn’t quite hear you. A little louder I think.”

Another nip at your thigh. You could feel it bruising you, making you feel terrified and alive. Daring yourself to be bold and brave, you said it again, a little louder.

“No, no, no. No conviction at all. Again. Louder, and with feeling.”

Your eyes were darting around the room, certain somebody must have noticed this scene playing out, or overheard you, but you were still driven on. You raised your volume slightly and said it as quickly as you could.

“Sorry, Master.”

The words rolled into each other and you blurted it out as if words were causing you pain. Shame still conflicted with the ache of arousal. You shouldn’t want or like this, but you did.

“Louder,” he demanded.

It was too much. People would hear, stare at you. How could he ask this of you?

“I don’t think…I can’t. I though this was to be private, there are so many people here.” It came to mind, ‘bluebird’ was in your thoughts. You could put a stop to this before you were totally humiliated in a crowded restaurant. It tortured you, you didn’t want to stop, but felt like you should. Your freshly marked skin excited you, deep down so did the relinquishing of control and the humiliation, but surely this was a step too far out in public. It didn’t go unheard.

“Do you wish the game to stop?” he said abruptly, swallowing hard.  

You thought about that for a second. It was in your hands. Trying to read his expression was never easy, he gave away so little. Somewhere, if only faintly, you thought you registered disappointment.

“No, I don’t want to stop,” you said firmly. “I just don’t like the idea of…”

His fingers were once again slipping between your slickened folds.

“Perhaps you don’t,” he purred, “but your cunt does. Always so very wet, Rabbit. Now at the top of your voice, apologise properly.”

Panting, glassy-eyed and virtually sobbing, you dug deep, pressed your eyes tightly shut and shouted it, letting it out with as much volume as your strained lungs would allow.

“Sorry, Master.”

Nothing.

You felt liberation and fear in the same breath.

The noise in the room didn’t stop suddenly. Opening one eye cautiously you looked around. Nobody had frozen mid-mouthful at the revelation or as much as turned their head in your direction. Confusion and bewilderment at how not a single soul had registered an interest in the scene in the corner of the room filled your mind.

Lucius laughed heartily.

“Oh, Rabbit, did you really believe I would compel you to draw such attention to our liaison when I was so specific in my desire for secrecy? I frequent this restaurant often. When I request a _private_ table, the owner knows I wish it to be absolute. A simple sound-proofing spell allows me to speak freely.”

Your eyes burned with both lust and anger. His deft fingers cut off any complaint and you stifled a moan. Squirming against his hand, you revelled in it, the very public nature of it, the wickedness as he teased and stroked at your clit. Gripping the edge of the table, you could feel yourself coming undone, the knot in your stomach tightening and coiling inside you in unison with his fingers.

“Please can I come?” you whimpered.

“What a very good girl, learning so fast. Do you need it badly?”

He pumped his fingers slowly in and out.

“Yes, please.”

“Here? In front of all these people? You want to come for your Master now?”

You knew he was enjoying this. His eyes lit up with devilment as he withdrew his fingers completely. You pushed your hips out towards him to plead for their return.

“Yes,” you rasped, now ready to beg.

“Very well.”

You shook delicately in your seat, tensing your thighs and fighting to contain it as warm waves of pleasure rushed through you. Forcing yourself to keep your heavy-lidded eyes open, he held eye contact as you clenched around his fingers, gushing onto them as you came. Your cheeks burned at what you had done, but it felt so good and your heart thumped as if it was ready to burst out of your chest at any moment.

“Thank you,” you murmured, struggling to form words and coherent thought.

This time he did scan around the room as he leant forward and gently brushed a sticky finger over your lip.

“Now doesn’t that taste wicked?”

Tracing your tongue over your lip, you could only nod,

“Come, Rabbit. I shall have my dessert elsewhere.”

 


	11. Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut-filled fun, enjoy my dears.  
> Thank you for even more kind words, kudos and for reading. Thanks to Amy for the encouragement to write for Lucius, I think I love him always as much as she does now! I am having a blast with this naughtiness, thanks to everyone who has come along for the ride.  
> Comments give me life and keep me typing, don't be shy! I'm also not going to lie, I may have had to type this chapter sitting on a wipe clean surface, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did inventing it ;)  
> Much love, Vin x

The walk back to the privacy of the offices was a hazy blur; your head was spinning. At one point you tried to make sense of what you had just allowed to happen. It was a fruitless exercise; you barely even knew your own name. Perhaps later you would be able to digest the revelation that you had allowed Lucius Malfoy to finger you to orgasm in a busy restaurant. Now you were too drunk on lust to string together any reasoned thought. If you allowed yourself to think too much you would be terrified.

Suddenly the door to the office was closing behind you and he was slamming you up against it, pinning your arms above your head and that so often cruel mouth was assaulting yours with a deep, penetrating, brutal and possessive kiss. His tongue darted in and out of your mouth, mimicking the action you longed for him to make inside you, and you were liquid against his body, panting and moaning. You couldn’t have resisted if you had wanted to. Lucius nipped at your neck, biting and claiming you, leaving a hot, damp trail. You were restrained, your wrists still tightly gripped, his weight holding you against the door. There was nothing you could do but press yourself against the solid shape of his body and tip your head to the side to invite him to take more.

You squirmed against him, searching and finding him hard. Fuck how you wanted that, to touch it, taste it, feel it inside you. It ached; you ached. He released your arm, only to grip a tight bunch of your hair and drag your ear to his mouth.

“Oh, Rabbit, wicked, wanton, naughty little Rabbit. I must punish you, lustful creature. It is my duty to correct you. Must, must, must…”

His words blurred together, and he thrust against you.

“Undress and bend over the desk.”

You tore at your clothes with shaking hands, dispensing quickly with your blouse and skirt. Your cloak was already in a crumpled heap on the floor. Reaching down to unclip a stocking, he stopped you.

“Leave them,” he barked.

Though he was still in command of the situation, you sensed his usual cool control was starting to break and tried not to let him see you smirk at the victory. Positioning yourself over the desk, you did as you had before, propping yourself up on your elbows. High on excitement you looked back over your shoulder with wicked intent. Roles were almost reversed, and it was you wondering just how far you could push Lucius.

“Please punish me, Master. I need it, _deserve_ it. Make me be good.”

The muscles in his jaw tightened. It gave you satisfaction.

“Close your eyes. Tight shut. I will know if you disobey me.”

You did as you were told and immersed yourself in the sensation of his hands running up from your ankles, over the shiny fabric of each stocking, picking at the lace, then on your bare flesh, ghosting over the tender points where you were sure small bruises had formed when he had pinched you sharply under the table earlier in the day. You winced at the contact. He pressed again, as if reminding you of the wicked events that had led you here in the first place. It conjured the vivid and very fresh memory of coming silently in a crowded room. Soaked and shaking, you felt something else tracing over the same lines. It was smooth, solid and slender. It tapped a silent command on your inner thighs, biding them to part and you complied automatically. The object worked its way up your leg again, this time advancing further, brushing lightly over the cheeks of your arse. It took a few moments for you to work out what it was, but now you were certain. It was Lucius Malfoy’s cane.

“Are your eyes still closed?”

“Yes,” you rasped, catching your breath as the cane barely brushed between your legs, trailing over your sodden cunt.

“I wish to hear every sound, hold nothing in.”

You swallowed hard as the cane glided between your legs, crying out as it delicately caught your clit. Eyes still squeezed shut, you moaned with want and bucked your hips, finding the pace and rhythm you needed. It was delicious; you couldn’t stand it if he stopped. Still he allowed you to grind out your own pleasure. You could picture the smug delight on his face at your needy desperation. You didn’t care, but writhed against it’s rigid form, angling yourself to gain most, whimpering as you pressed down on it.

Without warning, it was gone.

It was an inevitable consequence, yet you still felt its loss deeply, your hips still rocking, seeking it’s return. Sensing what would follow, you braced yourself. There was a seemingly endless pause. Finally, the cane struck your arse. It was barely a tap. It shocked you and threw you off guard. You had anticipated a much harder strike. No matter how much you imagined you were prepared for what Lucius would throw at you next, you were always wrong. Your muscles relaxed.

Smack.

This time he struck you with force, hard enough for you to know it would leave behind a deep, red welt. You let out a strangled cry. Tears prickled at the corner of your eyes, but you hoped keeping your eyes jammed shut would stem the flow.

“There will be ten more. Count them.”

The swish of the cane alerted you the next was coming, followed by the sharp sting.

“One,” you said with determination.

Another came in rapid succession.

“Two.”

The throb between your legs competed with the hot burning sensation. The third and fourth came together, short and sharp. Somehow you could sense the control and restraint in his arm, limiting the pain you received. It struck you how much he could hurt you with that cane if he chose to. You wondered if you would stop it. You trusted he wouldn’t cause real harm. There was a pause and you were sure you could hear Lucius’ breath had grown erratic and ragged. He struck you again, harder.

“Five.”

You could hardly force it out, winded by the tearing pain.

This time the cane moved between your legs again. How you welcomed it, covering it in the sticky juices that poured from you. You sobbed, as much at your pleasure as the pain that still burned your behind. That was forgotten in an instant as you bucked wildly against it, finding the right spot, panting hard in anticipation. Hot salty tears rolled down your face. It was snatched away as suddenly as it came. He struck you again.

“Six.”

It was followed by a pained scream.

“Are you fit to continue?”

“Yes, Master.”

There was no hesitation. The idea of stopping was out of the question. You would take it, take it all and relish it. The safe word had never even fleetingly entered your mind.

“You are doing so well, so very well. Four more, my pet. Count the last four.”

“Seven.”

“Eight.”

The eighth was much softer, nothing but a gentle nudge. The ninth was the hardest yet. It extracted a scream. He waited for it to subside and in the quiet, you were now certain he was panting.

“This is the last. Take all of your punishment, take the last of it.”

The final stroke came.

“Ten…thank you.”

The cane returned to your cunt.

“Thank you,” you sobbed again, struggling to speak.

The bliss of the friction against the throbbing, swollen bud of nerves had already distracted you from the agony. It was worth it, worth every stroke to feel this.

“Come for me.”

You could already feel it rising up, hot spikes running down your thighs and shooting up into your spine. You were ready to burst. The pulsing and throbbing soreness from every blow only intensified what you were feeling. Then it was too late, you were coming hard, frantically clawing for something to cling to, thrashing against the blunt instrument between your legs.

“That’s it, Rabbit, take pleasure from your pain.”

You were undone.

“Fuck, fuck, yes, oh, oh…”

You had never come as hard. You were lost in it, your eyes still shut as he had demanded.

“Oh, Lucius…”

You had forgotten yourself. Though you had never addressed him by his first name other than in the fantasies you had in your own mind, it came from nowhere. You were uncertain how he would react.

“I’m…I’m sorry.”

“There, there, Rabbit. Open your eyes for me.”

His voice was soothing. As you slowly opened your eyes, vision clouded by thick gloopy tears, you could make out Lucius now stood in front of you on the other side of the desk. He swept away a tear with his thumb and stroked your cheek tenderly.

“You are a little emotional. I will forgive it.”

Tipping your head up from underneath your chin, his tone took on a colder, darker edge.

“Don’t do it again. Now clean it.”

Lucius presented the cane, slick and coated in your juices. Uncertain at first, you tentatively flicked the tip of your tongue over it, tasting your own cunt. Tentative strokes became long and enthusiastic as you ran the flat of your tongue over it greedily.

“Good girl, my good girl, be thorough.”

He observed you with heavy lidded eyes, his mouth hung open a little. It encouraged you.

“There, that will do. Come let’s make you better.”

He gently applied a cooling balm to the burning imprints of his cane, making you suck air sharply through your teeth. Sighing heavily, you became aware he had sunk to his knees behind you. You exhaled with each tender stroke and felt the soft caress of his lips against your still painful rump. His mouth moved across each cheek and he pushed your legs apart. The tip of his tongue probing and your tight, unexplored entrance pushed sound out of you. The unexpected sensation and your initial discomfort at the idea quickly gave way to enjoyment. The feeling outweighed your hesitation at the idea. Lucius lapped and tested at the opening. You could only whimper.

“Interesting, another time perhaps,” he said as he lifted your legs from the floor and rested them on his shoulders. This time he buried his face in your cunt. Long strokes with the flat of his tongue alternated with a flickering motion with the tip that teased and worked your clit with the speed and dexterity of a snake. How you wanted to look down and see that immaculate head of hair bobbing between your legs. You wondered if he had heard that thought, as he was hauling you onto your back, pushing your legs wider apart and spreading your pussy open with his fingers, returning his greedy mouth to your molten centre. Each curl and lick were only heightened by the still burning ache in your bottom, which was now pressed down onto the surface of the desk. You were conscious a mix of his saliva and your own excitement was dripping down your thigh onto the expensive leather. Almost afraid to, you reached out and raked your fingers into his hair, overtaken by the need to hold him there. There were constant changes in motion and pressure, as he attuned to your needs, until you felt it again, that insistent thumping, the tight coiling and uncoiling in your stomach and you came again. Lucius clamped down, sucking hard on your clit, drawing out your orgasm. He did not stop. It was almost painful as he demanded more and more, his mouth still working urgently between your quivering thighs until you begged him to relent.

“Please, oh please. I don’t think I can take any more. I can’t…”

Eventually he pulled away. It was a thrill to see the usually so immaculate Lucius Malfoy seem so dishevelled. His hair was wild, his face glistening wet. He licked his lips.

“Exquisite,” he said as he wiped his mouth.

He stood between your still splayed legs. The want, the hunger, the need to have him inside you shone in your eyes.

“Please. I want…I need.”

You saw him consider it for a second. In that instant you were sure he was battling his own want and that he would give in to it.

“Not today, Rabbit. Not yet.”

You growled in frustration.

“At least let me touch you.”

You reached out limply, still pleading. He straightened himself up, every hair seeming to fall back into its place without any coaxing.

“You are speaking out of turn. Pets do not make demands of their masters.”

Though you tried to hold it in, you were filling up at the rejection.

“Don’t you want me to…I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

“Nothing. Now, enough, lest I have to punish you again for insolence. Make yourself decent.”

He was sharp and curt. Dressing yourself quickly and quietly, you kept your head down and said nothing more. Your legs were still weakened and unsteady and your unease didn’t go unnoticed.

“Come here,” he commanded.

It came as a surprise when he pulled you into his arms and rested your head against his chest as he smoothed your hair. You inhaled the scent of him; he still smelled of you. You felt the soft thud of his heartbeat. It made you feel things you knew you shouldn’t and a part of you screamed that you should tear yourself away in an act of self-preservation. It was warm and safe and steadying; you stayed.

“You must be patient. You have taken to this so naturally, but there is no rush to proceed.”

You huffed into his chest.

“I wonder, are you free over the weekend?”

That was an unexpected question.

“No…I mean I have no plans, nothing of any consequence.”

Guilt struck you. You had promised to spend some time with Essie. She would understand, not that you could tell her the truth and you were already skipping ahead trying to imagine what cover story you could concoct and how you could make your excuses.

“There is no obligation if you are otherwise engaged, but I should like it if you would spend some time with me at the Manor.”

Your heart missed a beat. The prospect of possibly a whole weekend, whole days and nights alone with Lucius was beyond your expectations. You thought you might combust but were careful not to sound over-eager.

“I should like that,” you said as indifferently as you could manage and cut your self off before you blurted out ‘very, very, _very_ much, yes please’.

“Then I shall look forward to it. I promise many pleasures will await you.”

He kissed you on the forehead.

Nodding meekly, you thanked him and reluctantly let go of his solid, male frame. You wobbled again and realised just how much he had been propping you up.   

“I can see you are of no further use in the office today. Better to delay a task than to complete it poorly. Go home. I have need to be elsewhere tomorrow, so I will send the arrangements by owl. I shall see you on Friday evening.”

“Yes, of course. I shall see you then.”


	12. Longing and Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I am an awful tease. Forgive me I am wicked. I promise some complete naughtiness is on its way.
> 
> As always thank you for your lovely comments, kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions. I appreciate them all and I am amazed how many readers there are. Thank you, you are wonderful. Please leave a few words if you can. It means a lot!
> 
> Enjoy my dears!

You needed to get home as quickly as possible; you were a mess. There was still a burning sensation and heat radiated from your arse where Lucius had caned you, your hair was mussed, though you had tidied it as best you could. Tears had taken their toll on your make up and whether it was the case or not, you felt as though you reeked of sex. Your legs still ached and were weak. The idea of your weekend raced through your mind: anticipation; excitement and nerves. A far simpler and more wholesome weekend had been planned. Essie. You would have to let her down, but there was no doubt you were going to accept the invitation to the Manor. It was important to speak to her and you wanted to do it as soon as possible. It was last minute as it was, leaving it any longer was even more unfair. The temptation to call in at the bookshop on your way home and get it over with was present but based on your current state you thought better of it and hurried home.

An owl arrived a little before eight carrying a letter penned in Lucius’ elaborate and familiar script. You tore into it with shaking hands, perhaps he had a change of heart and was withdrawing the invitation. You hoped not.

_You are to be a guest at Malfoy Manor this weekend. I expect your arrival at 6pm sharp on Friday evening. You will depart on Sunday. Inform no-one of your whereabouts, or the nature of your trip. Pack accordingly, my wanton little Rabbit._

_Your Master,_

_LM_

The letter was brief and formal until the final phrase. You could hear the words so clearly in your head, coming out of that delicious mouth. It made your stomach lurch with excitement. ‘Pack accordingly’ was of little assistance. You imagined you would need formal wear but then you also imagined, or rather hoped, you would spend a great deal of time undressed. No sooner had you read it and managed to re-read it for a second time, it had disappeared in a puff of smoke and a tiny green flame. Tiny ashes floated down and then vanished. Lucius was adept at covering his tracks and destroying evidence. His farcical trial had been a testament to that particular skill.

It was best not to dwell on who he was, what he had been or what he might have done. You were fortunate enough to have been largely shielded from those dark times. It frightened you to imagine what he might be capable of. At worst he had participated, even led atrocities; at best he had silently borne witness. There was undoubtedly still a streak of darkness in him. You saw it flash in his eyes from time to time when something particularly displeased him or riled him. He didn’t suffer fools gladly. You also saw a warmth and a softness, one he tried so very hard to conceal, but you had to believe existed. Banishing those thoughts was becoming harder and harder. Lust was a straightforward feeling. You felt it when you looked at him. It beat out an insistent rhythm deep inside you. It was a want, a deep aching want and a spark that drove you to do things and take pleasure from things you never imagined you would desire. Other feelings were more complex. It wounded your pride that he had never invited you to touch him, that the urge to fuck you hadn’t become overwhelming. That was it. Your ego was bruised. The perceived rejection didn’t hurt you for any other reason. You would keep telling yourself that. You hoped his reluctance was part of the game.

You rifled through your underwear drawer, searching for something less plain and ordinary, settling on the laciest and most flimsy things you could find. As for clothes, most of what you owned seemed grossly inadequate. You imagined dining, even at home, was a formal occasion and contemplated packing the beautiful blue gown Lucius had given you for the ball. It seemed too much. The black dress would have to do.

A whole weekend. Away from the office, with time and a bed and who knows what else. There was still a slight soreness as you sat down. A reminder of the afternoon. Now your mind raced. You couldn’t help but relive it, every harsh stroke of the cane, his fingers, his mouth. Fuck, the way he had lapped at you so greedily. Though he had made you come so hard, you craved to feel him inside you and your still starved cunt cried out for attention. It ached. It burned. You felt your own arousal soaking your underwear. Forgetting for a moment, your fingers dipped down inside your sodden panties. Ouch! The electrical crackle fizzed against your hand. There would be no sating of your need. Not tonight. Lucius had seen to that. Still you conjured torturous images. You wanted him naked, hard in your hand, in your mouth, buried deep inside you fucking you. Squeezing a cushion between your thighs you did your best to drown out the desperate and unrelenting ache. You would wait. You would hate it and love it and use it when he spanked you, when his fingers worked inside you, you would burst.

 

____________ 

Friday arrived. You tried to work. You were usually far more efficient when Lucius was absent. Today was very different and distraction crept in with alarming regularity. The firm and persistent ache between your legs barely subsided. You needed a distraction. As the clock struck one, you headed out to meet Essie with the intention of buying lunch by way of an apology for letting her down at the weekend.

“A free lunch? Whatever have I done to deserve this?” Essie grinned.

“About this weekend…”

Your friend frowned.

“I’m sorry. I know, I know I did promise and I was really looking forward to it, it’s just something came up and I can’t refuse. I hate letting you down and I wouldn’t if there was any way out of it. I’m sorry.”

You were starting to ramble and shut yourself up.

Essie pouted. “Bad friend,” she said as she gave you a mock slap on your hand. “Might I ask why am I being ditched?”

“I have to go away over the weekend. Sorry.”

“You’re being cagey. Is it a man? Are you seeing someone. It’s not you know who, is it?”

You stopped suddenly, you could feel your mouth falling open of its own accord. Awkwardness kicked in and you squirmed in your seat, momentarily lost for words. Fighting to compose yourself, you took a long gulp of your drink.

“Who?” you asked as casually as you could manage, attempting to feign innocence. Surely, she couldn’t know.

“Our handsome, but mysterious friend from the ball.”

Essie looked excited and expectant. You felt a wave of relief.

“No, it isn’t. I spoke to him for five minutes, if that. I didn’t even get his name.”

Essie shrugged. “You should have.”

“It’s not a fun trip.”

That was a lie.

“Business? Is bloody Malfoy making you work the weekend? He’s disgraceful. You should have told him you already had plans. I’ve told you before he lumps you in with the house elves.”

“I’ve told you he’s not that bad. He can be…”

“What?”

“Reasonable and generous.”

She huffed at that.

You despised lying to her. You wanted to say he could be utterly delicious and you hoped he was going to make you come all weekend until you could no longer walk. You shared everything with her, she was your best friend, but this was a secret and had to stay that way. Work was the only excuse you could reasonably make. If you had said you were at your parents, she might have sent an owl, or worse popped in for a visit. She knew all of your friends. It was unfortunate you had to use Lucius as the excuse. Deception wasn’t your greatest strength.

“He’s really not that bad once you…get used to him.

There was a tiny scrap of nagging doubt. You could hardly say ‘get to know him’, you didn’t really know him at all. He was as mysterious and guarded as ever. Perhaps _someone_ should know who you were with and where you would be, even if they didn’t know why. How far did you trust a former Death-Eater? You banished that from your thoughts. Enough to allow him to tie you up and spank you, enough to grant him complete control over your pleasure.  

“Hmm,” she looked unconvinced. “Well promise me we’ll get together properly, and soon.”

“We will. I really do promise. I must get back to the office.”

You hugged her and kissed her cheeks.

“Yes, your lord and master will be wondering where his slave has gotten to.”

Essie smiled broadly. You had to turn your head to conceal a wicked smirk. If only she knew. Thank goodness she didn’t. The secrecy and subterfuge were undeniably exciting. The thrill of the forbidden overtook any guilt at the lie. What were you becoming?

As the day wore on you felt a buzz and the churning, nervous excitement started to mount. Barely able to wait for the end of the day to come, the clock taunted you, as it seemed to so often, with its reluctance to advance. Finally, home time came.

 

__________

 

You disapparated on the long, grand approach to Malfoy Manor. Twilight had come and gone, but the lamp-lit drive way was still peppered with the famed, white peacocks who still pecked around you with complete disinterest in a new arrival; just as haughty and arrogant as their owner. Advancing to the door, you straightened up and rang the bell. After a brief wait a disgruntled house elf answered and eyed you with suspicion. Introducing yourself politely, you reached out to shake hands. The gesture was met with a hard stare and your arm hung awkwardly in the air.

“Your master is expecting me,” you tried to assure the doubtful elf. Your lip inadvertently twitched at those words. _Yours and mine_ danced through your mind. If anything, you were coming across as a little giddy. Best correct that, lest the elf would assume you were an idiot. Besides, Lucius disapproved of such a demeanour. The diminutive guardian at the threshold looked you up and down again. Reluctantly, and with an expression of disdain you were eventually bidden into the house. The hallway was as grand as you had visualised, as large as your entire apartment, dominated by a grand, sweeping mahogany staircase framed with ornate, carved balustrades and a crystal chandelier, no doubt worth more than your parents’ estate. Before you could absorb anymore, Lucius appeared.

“Welcome to my humble abode.”

There was nothing humble about it, or him for that matter and you were certain the irony of the statement wasn’t wasted on him either as he smiled at you wickedly. Though he didn’t fit the definition of casual, he was less ‘dressed’ than you had ever seen him before. His white shirt hung loose, and his sleeves were rolled up.

“Take the lady’s bag, lazy beast,” he scowled at the elf who complied immediately.

“Thank you.”

The elf looked surprised, as if courtesy and politeness were alien to him. Snatching the bag, he scurried off up the stairs.

“Are you well?” he enquired.

“Very. Thank you. Your house is beautiful. I mean I’d heard, but seeing it is another matter.”

“Hmm.”

He beckoned you with the waggle of his index finger. You approached gingerly, reminding yourself you had walked willingly into this, the first twitches and aches already alerting you to the want you felt every time you were confronted with Lucius Malfoy. Without warning, he raked you into his arms and kissed you roughly and hungrily. His lips and teeth bruised and nipped at yours and his hands dragged you in by the waist. Lucius’ tongue invaded your mouth forcefully and you could do nothing but melt against him, coiling your arms around his neck to cling on. He snatched it away as suddenly as it came, leaving you breathless and dizzy.

“Good girl. I trust you have told no-one as I instructed?”

“I had to tell a friend something.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“And where does this friend of yours believe you are?”

“A secretarial convention.”

He sucked in his cheeks in amusement.

“In Sheffield,” you added.

He smirked and gave you a disdainful look you came to realise the house elf had evidently learned to mirror over the years.

“How dreary that would be. I hope you will find your time here far more…stimulating than the drab alternative you conceived as a cover.”

He pressed against you, hands sliding over the curve of your arse. You let out a stifled moan and bit your lip. He leant in close, the feel of his breath against your ear made your stomach turn somersaults. That omnipresent ache thumped hard inside you.

“Dinner is at 7.30 sharp. I demand my guests are punctual.”

“Do you dress for dinner?”

“Of course. Do you take me for a savage?” he said indignantly, the stern expression evaporating into a far more mischievous one. “You, my Rabbit, will not be dressing for dinner. Far from it.”

Your eyes widened.

“No, you shall undress for dinner.”

“You mean I should come down to dinner…”

“Naked, wearing not a stitch.”

Your mouth fell open. You weren’t even certain you would be alone. At the very least the house elves would see. There was no answer, you were struck dumb by the request, yet that tightening in your stomach was there.

“But, what about…?”

“You _will_ do as I say, Rabbit.”

His voice was harsh and unforgiving.

“Yes.”

There was a sharp tug at your hair.

“Are you forgetting yourself?”

“Yes, Master,” you rasped. The want inside you to would not allow you to refuse.

“Better.”

He released his grip on you.

“Finchley,” he bellowed. “Show the lady to the guest room.”

The idea of the guest room confused you. You had imagined you would share his bed and struggled to come up with a reason he would conceal the nature of your visit within his own home, particularly as he was bidding you to join him for dinner without your clothes. Perhaps it was some tradition or for the sake of appearances. You decided not to challenge it.

“Now go and make whatever preparations you require. Finchley will provide you with anything you need, draw you a bath and the like.”

With that he was gone, leaving you to silently follow the still disgruntled elf to your room.


	13. Dressing for Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This may not be to everyone's taste and comments, constructive criticism and thoughts are welcome and invited. Please check the tags if you are unsure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of your lovely comments, please keep them coming, they mean a lot and do keep me going. I hope you are still enjoying this and I am amazed how many reads, bookmarks and kudos you fab lot have left me. 
> 
> My standard apology applies. Sorry, love!

The angry elf showed you to your room and you took a moment to absorb your new surroundings. It was lavish to say the least; you expected it to be. An imposing king size, four poster bed sat in the centre of the room, its heavy, red curtains tied off with thick, gold, braided ropes. It would have completely dominated and filled most bedrooms, but not here. A door to the right led to your own bathroom, it sat open, teasing an equally opulent space with an enormous, claw-footed bath tub. Your bag was already waiting, emptied and unpacked by the surly but industrious elf.

“Will that be all,” he barked.

“Yes, thank you Finchley. You have been most kind.”

The elf fumbled and bowed his head.

“The Master mentioned a bath.”

“Yes, I’m sure I can manage.”

You had grown up with elves around the house, but never expected them to wait on you hand and foot. It was clearly very different in the Malfoy household.

“Finchley must do it,” he muttered as he had already made his way through the door and set about running it before you could object any further.

While you had a moment alone you inspected the room further; it was dark and expensive, much like the rest of the house from what you could gather. It suited him. Large French doors hid behind thick jacquard curtains and you peeped out. Deep in December, the twilight was long gone, outside there was only darkness, not a street lamp or even the distant headlights of a muggle car to be seen. You imagined it would be quite a view in the sunlight. You were miles away from anywhere, nobody knew where you were, in the home of a former…

A small cough broke that train of thought. Finchley had emerged from the bathroom.

“It’s ready, there are towels and bubbles. The Mistress didn’t like them, but I thought you might.”

You squirmed at the thought of Narcissa Malfoy. Though she was long gone, discomfort at the idea you were an imposter in her house her spiked through you. You put it down to being in her former home and nothing more. You refused to acknowledge the notion you might feel a twinge of jealousy.

“How wonderful. You are too good, the most conscientious house elf I have ever met.”

This time the tiny elf’s features softened, and he seemed to blush a little.

“Is that all you need, Mistr…Miss.”

“Yes, that’s all.”

He bowed and left.

You sunk down into the hot, soapy water and let out a long sigh, trying hard not to imagine yourself as the Mistress of Malfoy Manor. Realistically, you knew as little about Lucius as you did on the day of your interview, other than you wanted him more than life itself. The temptation to slip your hand down between your legs crossed your mind, until you remembered it was not only forbidden, it was barred to you.

Mindful of the time, you finally dragged yourself up and wrapped up tightly in one of the extra-large fluffy towels that had been left for you. Once patted dry, you would normally go about dressing yourself, tonight that wasn’t the case. Your stomach lurched at the idea of padding around a strange house completely naked and you eyed up a long robe that hung on the back of the door. Perhaps you could slip it on and remove it later. Letting out a sigh, you knew immediately that Lucius would be displeased if you emerged wrapped up in a dressing gown. You contemplated whether you should wear shoes. Did they count? Eventually, you set about applying some make up. If you couldn’t be dressed at all it at least made you feel slightly ‘ready’ and afforded you a slender veil of protection from feeling utterly bare. Finishing with a light dusting of blush that might conceal some of the real flush in your cheeks, you inspected yourself in the mirror. You would have to do.

Tentatively, you turned the door handle, closed your eyes and stepped out onto the wide landing. By the time you reached the staircase, you had managed to push the thought of your nudity to the back of your mind. Your stomach churned, yet you were compelled to continue. As you rounded the corner, you saw Lucius waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. He scanned you briefly, suppressing a smirk. Dressed immaculately in black, he examined his pocket watch.

“Punctual at least I see, and _appropriately_ dressed for the occasion. My what a _good girl_ you are,” he almost purred at you.

He outstretched an arm to guide you down the last few stairs. Your heart was pounding. Embarrassment fought excitement. It wasn’t as if he had never seen you in a state of undress, yet the circumstances felt very different and you felt too shy and exposed to make eye contact. All the same, you were completely aware of the tightening inside you, of the growing ache and heat within you. You shouldn’t feel this, but you did.

“Come, Finchley has prepared us a feast in the dining room.”

You gulped. You had forgotten the household staff and found yourself nervously gripping Lucius’ forearm.

“Don’t look so worried. I have given him the rest of evening to attend to other duties. I wish to dine in private.”

A wave of relief washed over you.

The vast expanse of the Malfoy dining room was lit with an uncountable number of candles. A long, highly-polished table dominated the space. Two places were set, each at opposite ends. Lucius led you to take a seat in one of the oversized carver chairs at the far end of the table. You glanced down at the setting, noting the absence of cutlery. Perhaps it was an oversight, though you didn’t imagine errors were very well tolerated in this household. At least you could be grateful that you were alone.

“Sit,” he commanded.

You silently obeyed. Lucius produced fine lengths of rope and positioned your hands flat against the substantial arms of the chair. He slowly and precisely bound your wrists without a word. You couldn’t help but let out a small gasp, as a knot of desire tightened in your belly and battled with confusion. Perhaps you weren’t going to eat at all.

“Part your legs.”

You swallowed hard. He had bound you before, it had made your heart race and soaked your cunt, but shame still reddened your face. You complied. Lucius bound each ankle in turn to the weighty legs.

“Perfect,” he said as he tugged at the knots.

Finding yourself completely restrained, you instinctively tugged at your bonds. Lucius perched on the edge of the table and smirked at your predicament as he filled two wine glasses and place one down in front of you.

“A toast, Rabbit, to a most enjoyable evening.”

Lucius took a drink. You stared up at him in disbelief.

“How rude of me. What a terrible host I am. Here let me assist you.”

Picking up the glass, he held it to your lips, though you tried to catch the liquid it spilled as he tilted the glass. Wine trickled down over your breasts. Without hesitation he bent his head and ran the tip of his tongue over each droplet of dark red liquid. Each flick was precise and delicate. A sharp pinch of his teeth on your nipple sent a sharp jolt directly to your core and you let out a groan. You had barely taken a mouthful, yet you felt dizzy, almost drunk on lust.

“A great shame to waste such a fine Merlot, don’t you think?”

Barely able to nod in absent-minded agreement, he stroked your cheek.

“My perfectly captured little Rabbit. How that heart thumps in your chest. Your table manners leave much to be desired, we must improve your etiquette.”

If you weren’t so utterly transfixed, you would have snapped back with a retort about your lack of control over the mess. You got as far as opening your mouth to protest, but were silenced by the soft, barely-there brush of his lips over yours. Sighing softly, heat pooled between your thighs, growing more urgent with every second. Lucius looked into your eyes, now glossy with lust and he held your chin preventing you from looking away. He was right, you were completely captive, the rapid rise and fall of your chest was visible, the short pants you made as you struggled to regulate your breathing were audible. Time stopped, until Lucius broke the spell.

“Now, dinner, we must eat,” he said casually.

Though the elves were not present to serve, everything was laid out in preparation at the side of the room. He summoned two bowls, setting one down in front of you, the other at the opposite end of the table where his own place was set. He purposefully made his way to his seat and had began to eat. You looked down at the warm bowl in front of you. It did smell good. Lucius had already started to eat.

“Come along, eat up.”

“What am I to do?”

He looked up at you incredulous and continued.

“I can’t…”

“Address me properly if you expect an answer.”

With a look of displeasure, he took another spoonful of his soup.

“Master?”

“Yes,” he snapped.

“How am I to eat if I can’t move and have no spoon?”

Lucius scoffed.

“Are you, or are you not a pet?”

“Yes,” you rasped.

“And who ever heard of a pet eating their dinner with silver cutlery? You can bow your head, can’t you?”

You squirmed uncomfortably, understanding exactly what he expected of you.

“Yes, but I…”

Tears prickled. Is this really what he expected? He couldn’t. You wouldn’t. Surely this was some kind of trick or joke. You could stop this, if you thought about that one word for a moment. Attuned to that thought, he picked up on your doubt immediately.

“Of course, I can untie you. You may eat your dinner as you wish and retire to bed… _alone_. _”_

He spoke calmly and coolly, as if your reply was of no consequence to him. You were truly beginning to understand what he meant about limits. Composing yourself silently, you made a choice. Whatever you felt about his request, the thumping, urgent need inside you to please him and to submit won out and you pushed yourself to comply. Stifling a sob, you leant forward until you reached the fine china bowl and cautiously flicked out your tongue. It was delicious. As you awkwardly lapped at the contents of the bowl you were aware he was watching you intently, a smug look of satisfaction etched on his beautiful face.

“Good girl, eat, I do like to see a girl with a healthy appetite.”

The scene played out. You would catch him drawing in his cheeks in sadistic amusement, tutting occasionally in disgust. Though you knew you had become as adept as you possibly could at consuming your starter like a cat, you were also acutely aware that you were a mess, your face covered, soup dripping down your chin.  Lucius had finished and delicately dabbed at the corner of his mouth with an immaculate, white napkin and rose to his feet, returning to your end of the table. He tilted your head up to inspect you.

“How was your soup, Rabbit?”

“Delicious, thank you,” you replied with as much edge as you could muster.

“Spoiled little thing,” he said as he tucked your hair behind your ear, “what a terrible mess. We must clean you up. That simply will not do. Filthy bitch.”

His words were harsh and brutal, yet he gently wiped your face clean.

A feeble ‘thank you’ tumbled out.

“Am I not good to you?”

“Yes, Master.”

This time he brushed your lips with more force, lingering as his tongue darted between your lips that had automatically parted to beg for more. He pulled away and you tried to follow his mouth in a silent plea for more.

“Ah ah.”

Lucius waggled his finger as if you were a wayward puppy.

“Please,” you managed hoarsely.

He pressed his forefinger to your lips, shushing you, then trailed it slowly and deliberately down your body. The anticipation was almost painful, as he lingered over your stomach, his eyes fixed on yours, until he finally teased between soft, sticky folds.

You stifled a moan as he delicately tormented you.

“My, Rabbit. How very wet you are. How can it be so? Bound and eating like an animal and yet here you are, soaked, dripping, desperate.”

His finger pressed at your opening, provoking the urge to rock against him and demand more. It took every ounce of self-control to resist.

“Oh, so very desperate. Do you know what I think?”

“No Master.”

“I think you are a terribly wanton slut. Is that so?”

The words stung and thrilled you in equal measure. You could barely speak.

“Well?” he demanded, pinching your nipple hard.

“Yes.”

It was a cry, a yelp, almost pained as you strained to hold your hips still, that wickedly tempting finger still there, but not.

“Yes, what? Tell me what you are.”

“I’m…”

He pinched again, sending a jolt through your body, forcing you to fight harder to contain the half-sob and half-moan of pleasure you wanted to release.

“I’m…a wanton slut.”

You were instantly rewarded with one finger, then another coiling inside your eager cunt. Lucius seemed pleased with your response. You should be horrified, but the pleasure he seemed to take from your obedience only made you wetter. Still containing needy mewls, you were conscious you were dripping down onto the upholstery.

“Wicked, filthy whore, look how you want it, need it, live for it.”

“Yes, oh please, Master, please. I am. I am. I need it so badly. Please.”

You could already feel yourself edging closer. The heat rising, that knot tightening, making you want to scream and beg and buck against him as he fingered you roughly. So close.

“Please, Master, please can I come.”

Lucius’ expression of lustful delight instantly snapped into a look of indifference.

“Absolutely, fucking, not.”

It was gone. Snatched away. You could only slump in your seat, panting and frustrated.

He returned to his seat at the head of the table and summoned two plates of food. You looked down; venison in a dark, rich sauce. You waited for instruction.

“Eat, it’s delicious.”

You looked down again, tears forming, but ready to make yourself comply. He carried on dispassionately. You were crying now, salt water pouring down both cheeks. Still you were going to do as you were told. As you leant forward, you felt the ropes holding your wrists loosening themselves and falling away, freeing your hands. A knife and fork floated down and landed in their proper position. Still you waited.

“Rabbit,” he said. There was a hint of a question in his tone. “Eat your dinner…like a lady.”

You nodded meekly and picked up your cutlery and felt something unexpected: disappointment.  

What the hell had he done to you?


	14. After Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been bloody ages, life etc. Thanks for waiting patiently and thanks for asking!  
> Feel free to drop in on Twitter @Vintage1983V to say hello to me and the rest of #teambasement
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> I hope you enjoy.  
> Traditionally apology to my gorgeous muse. I'm not that sorry, clearly, but you know, feel like I should!
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> Thanks for all of your lovely comments, kudos and subs. They really do give me life and make writing worthwhile.
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> Let me know what you think! Enjoy, Vin xx

Dinner concluded in an almost civilised fashion. You had virtually forgotten that you were naked and bound to a dining chair and Lucius barely acknowledged it. Though the conversation was light, he was sure to make the odd innuendo-laden remark and take visible pleasure as you squirmed in your seat. The meal was over. He set down his cutlery and dabbed at his mouth elegantly. Lust flared in the pit of your stomach. What now? He rose steadily to his feet and made the walk down the lengthy dining table at a leisurely pace. His eyes twinkled in the candle light, still filled with wicked intent. You waited silently for instruction.

“Come now, Rabbit. We shall retire to the drawing room,” he drawled as he untied each rope at your wrists and then ankles with care and attention.

Too shell shocked to respond coherently, you nodded, open-mouthed and already breathless, inhaling sharply as his thumb grazed over the red bands your restraints had left around each wrist. Lucius extended a hand to you and you took it meekly and unsteadily pulled yourself upright.

“Come along then,” he instructed.

As you began to follow him, he stopped abruptly.

“Oh no, pet, perhaps you forget your place. He closed the space between you and whispered, deep and low into your ear. “Pets may crawl behind their masters.”

You swallowed hard and for a second questioned if you should continue, but you had come this far. An ache, a desperate longing that persistently drummed between your thighs drove you on. Lucius was unmoved, scowling and pointing towards the floor and you found yourself obediently sinking to your hands and knees. Sighing deeply as you followed, every feeling was amplified, the burn of the dense, plush carpet against your knees, then the harsh but slippery surface of the polished, wooden floor as you found yourself crossing the hallway into the equally grand drawing room. Fear and exertion forced the muscles in your arms to tighten. Occasionally you dared to glance upward at the striking, black-clad figure in front of you, striding about his own house, his unmistakable blonde hair swishing down his back. Want burned harder.

The drawing room was as vast as the rest of the house, dominated by a grand stone mantle with a fire roaring in the deep inglenook below. A wide, wing-back chair with an ornate side table sat in front of it. Lucius nonchalantly poured himself a large brandy from a fine crystal decanter and sat down in the chair: his chair.

“Come,” he beckoned.

You crawled towards him with purpose and determination. Only the thudding of your heartbeat and your flushed cheeks would betray your doubt. Now, perhaps now your reward would come.

“Turn.” He gestured that you should shuffle around until you were perpendicular. Silent compliance; eyes tightly shut.

You felt the brush of fingertips across your cheek, through your hair, tracing the outline of your spine. It was the faintest of contacts, light and barely there, then it was gone. It was enough to quicken your breath and send the warm tingle of need through every nerve. Fingers returned, ghosting up your inner thigh. You couldn’t help it, a strangled, needy whimper escaped your lips. Lucius lingered a second, so close, so desperately close he must be able to feel the damp heat radiating from your aching cunt. You held your breath. It was all you could do to contain the need to scream or beg or allow yourself to wail in frustration. Eternal seconds of waiting came to nothing. Lucius tutted and withdrew. You could not contain a growl of frustration.

“Impatient are we, Rabbit? You must know that well behaved and loyal pets sit at their masters’ feet.”

“Please,” you rasped, “please I…”

“Shush now. Lest I have to discipline you.”

Lust spiked within you again and you silenced yourself, fighting an urge to purposely carry out any misdemeanour you could think of. There was no smack or spank, instead there was the feel of smooth, polished leather on your back and a weight pressing you downward. It took a moment to register exactly what was happening, but you soon realised that the leather belonged to his boot and you were now a footstool. Outrage fought with the desire to be obedient. Humiliation burned. Lucius said nothing; time lost its meaning. Discomfort and shame forced tears to form and you tried in vain to hold them in. Still he ignored you and you started to ache from the effort, still questioning why you were enduring this. You didn’t stop it, you stubbornly refused. It was a challenge and you would meet it. He had promised to test your limits and the competitive edge in you refused to concede. Shoulders shaking as you silently sobbed, you heard the glass clank down on the side table. Finally, he relented. The weight shifted from your back.

“Come now,” he said as he directed you up onto your knees and turned you to face him, your head resting on his lap. He reached down to dab away your tears and gently stroked your hair. You revelled in it, lived for it and sighed deeply as he cupped your face and bent down to barely brush your lips with his. This time he did not pull away, but his tongue slipped into your open mouth, invasive and possessive yet gentle. Urgent need poured out and it wasn’t all yours. His fingers twisted into your hair, tilting your head. When he started to move away, you tried to follow. You couldn’t bare not to be joined, but he broke it, leaving you panting heavily and wide eyed.

“How loyal and obedient you are, such a good girl, _my_ good little Rabbit. You have been perfect. Done all I have asked of you. What do you want? You may have what you wish more than anything. Tell me and claim your reward.”

Looking up at him, you considered for a moment. Your own need drummed inside you but was overtaken by the hunger for the one thing that had been denied; him.

“Anything? Anything I want?”

“Anything.” He smiled, not with his usual wicked sarcasm. You felt a softness and a warmth you had not seen before as if you had genuinely pleased him. You liked that feeling. You knew what you wanted.

“You.”

His eyebrow shot up as you bravely slid a hand up this thigh.

“I want…I need to touch you. Please. Please let me.”

It was true. More than anything you longed to touch him, taste him, please him, see him come apart for you. You would have gladly begged.

Lucius smirked.

“Oh Rabbit, glorious Rabbit. Now you are ready. Perfection. Utter perfection. You can ask for anything your heart desires. Any pleasures you want and instead you would choose to beg to please your Master. Now you are the perfect pet.”

He was swift to his feet, scooping you up and lifting you into his arms. You coiled around his neck and buried your face into him as he carried you with ease towards the grand staircase. Fear that the house elves would see you in your state of undress had long since vanished. The warmth and contact as he held you tightly heartened you, made you forget in an instant any discomfort or humiliation you had felt.

If his arms were tiring, he gave you no indication and you found yourself being gently deposited on the bed in the guest room where your evening had begun. Light headed and almost delirious you watched him undress. Though he appeared calm and unhurried, you were certain you saw a slight unsteadiness in his hand. It was fleeting.

Now he stood gloriously naked at the foot of the bed, masculine, athletic but not overly muscular. Your breath hitched, and you drew yourself to the edge of the bed. Running your palms down his chest you followed them with a trail of damp kisses. Sinking lower, you fed on every twitch, every small and restrained reaction to your touch. He was already hard. You thrived on the tensing of his body as your brushed against his cock and it only fuelled you further, almost dared you to lift your head and gaze at him wantonly. It seemed so unfair that Lucius was the only one allowed to tease and torment. He allowed it but not for long. Elegant fingers raked into your hair and pushed your head lower. It amused you to resist a little and test his patience. It didn’t last long.

“Mouth,” he commanded.

You didn’t need to be asked twice. Though you had toyed with the idea of inciting him, your own urgency was just as great as his. You wanted it as much as he did. Bowing your head as instructed you drew a slow, languid lick down the length of his thick cock. An audible intake of breath excited you and you repeated the action, lapping wickedly at the sensitive tip, producing another of those twitches he could not conceal.

“Mouth, now.”

You obeyed and took the thick, hard length of him as deep as you could, drawing him in and out, still at a steady pace. Lucius allowed you control for a moment, but as you pushed deeper something broke within him. He held your hair in a tight bunch and dragged you back and forth until the rhythm of his hips took over and he fucked your open mouth. You took it and adored it, the scent and taste of his arousal, the feel of him, smooth and solid and the occasional suppressed sound of pleasure you extracted.

“Good girl, such a good girl, take it, take it all. Eager cock-sucking slut.”

His words and thrusts grew rougher and sharper, breaks in his voice told you his cool exterior was starting to crack. It was everything.

“Enough,” he barked and pulled away.

Though greedy to take it back, he was already pushing you back onto the bed and positioning himself on top of you. There was an automatic and uncontrolled buck of your hips. Need drove you and you were liquid underneath him, a hot mess of untamed hunger. Your starved cunt was crying out to be fucked and he knew it.

“Oh yes, you do want it so very badly, desperate, aching.”

He stroked the tip of his cock over your slickened folds, forcing a pitiful cry from your lips. It was all true, you were desperate.

“Beg me,” he smirked.

“Please.”

“Oh, you can do better than that, beg me.”

“Please, Master. I need you inside of me. Fuck me. Oh please. I will beg. I am begging.”

Your pleas were answered as he pressed inside your wet, willing cunt. It was delicious, instantly satisfying the urgent want within you as he filled you. He moved with a natural rhythm that you fell into at once, slow at first. Remembering the rules for a moment, you managed to repress a moan.

“Make noise. I need to hear you come for my cock.”

He moved harder and faster, burying himself within you as you whimpered for more, barely able to see or think coherently.

“Oh, you tight little wench, that perfect cunt fits me so well. You are mine. _It_ is mine.”

Lucius’ teeth were gritted now.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You, Master, I’m yours.”

“Tell me, what is mine?”

“Everything, all of it, it’s yours.”

“Tell me what’s mine?” he repeated.

You understood what he wanted.

“My cunt, my pleasure, they are yours. I am yours.”

It drove him on, but it was you who were coming undone, tingling heat spread out from your molten core through your body; your thighs shook.

“Come for me. Wicked, wanton, needy little slut. Come for your Master’s cock.”

The pace was relentless now, rough and bruising. There was no going back, and you lost yourself in it. You were shattering underneath him, clinging on tightly to his shoulders, coming harder than you ever had done before. It seemed endless as you rode out every wave of pleasure until there was nothing left. Lucius wasn’t far behind you. Even in your present state you could feel the tensing of his body and the signs he was close. You couldn’t resist.

“Master, my Master let me make you come. Come inside me, please.”

He did. With a sharp jerk and strangled sound, you felt each shot of his hot come as he emptied himself inside you. You remained still for a moment, before he collapsed onto the bed beside you, spent and drained. There was silence but for heavy breath and the pounding of hearts.

Turning to face you, he caught a solitary tear rolling down your cheek and frowned.

“It’s alright, it’s fine. It’s a good thing. I’m just…”

You were unable to put your finger on the right word or feeling.

“Overwhelmed.”

It was matter of fact. Lucius was clawing back his composure and control. It wasn’t an enquiry, no, he was arrogant and self-assured enough to tell you with conviction what he knew you to be feeling. Irritatingly, he was probably right.

“I understand, this evening has been somewhat intense. Know you have done so wonderfully. More than I could have hoped or imagined. Feel no guilt or shame. This is who and what you are. Embrace it.”

There was a softness as he held you close and allowed your head to fall on his chest. Idly stroking your hair, he lifted your still red and tender wrist to his lips and kissed it delicately. Tilting your head up, you found each other, tongues knotting together instinctively and without the force or possessiveness you had grown accustomed to. Lazy and sensual, the kiss seemed to last an eternity, yet ended too soon. Lucius was shuffling out from under you and drew the bed covers back, ushering you underneath them.

“Come on, into bed. You are thoroughly exhausted and must rest.

“I want to go to bed, but not to rest,” you said more with mischief than intent.

He seemed to consider it briefly.

“Rest now, you will need your strength for tomorrow’s activities I promise you.”

Patting at the empty space beside you, bidding him to join you, you reached out your hand to catch him and keep him. He took it.

“I must rest too.”

You sighed.

“Then we’ll sleep.”

Lucius seemed momentarily confused by your request.

“I must retire to my own chambers.”

You gave a disappointed frown.

“How should I ever get a moment’s slumber with you bare and willing beside me?”

The compliment was a means to appease you. He stepped away and your finger tips fell away from his limply.

“Won’t you stay?”

“It is not how things are done here. You will come to understand.”

He bent down and planted a soft kiss on your forehead and folded the covers back over you. It was an unexpected tenderness, you knew better than to mention. Still fighting the urge to cling on to him and beg him to stay, you settled yourself into bed and he made his way to the door, turning once to bid you goodnight.

“Goodnight.”

Letting out a deep sigh, your head sunk into the plump feather filled pillows. He was right, you were tired, and it wasn’t long before a blissful and dreamless sleep took over you.


End file.
